


Zurvan

by mrkeller



Series: Kuxan Sum Cycle [9]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Gen, Kuxan Sum Cycle begins shortly after the Third Season episode “Syzygy”, Mulder-Scully friendship, Samantha is found, X-Files case with Myth-arc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:54:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 226,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21618691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrkeller/pseuds/mrkeller
Summary: While Mulder and Scully prepare to defend Mister X against charges trumped up by the Consortium, they discover that the shape-shifting aliens have taken an unusual interest in recycling. Mulder's mother and stepfather make discoveries about Samantha that eventually require both Mulder's and Scully's investigative abilities to understand. The Cigarette-Smoking Man prepares to engineer his own return to power, and we discover just why Senator Matheson has been so helpful to the X-team.
Series: Kuxan Sum Cycle [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1555492





	1. New Directions

\-----o------------------------------------o-----

Chapter I - New Directions

\-----o------------------------------------o-----

Now, by heaven,  
My blood begins my safer guides to rule,  
And passion, having my best judgment collied,  
Assays to lead the way: if I once stir,  
Or do but lift this arm, the best of you  
Shall sink in my rebuke. Give me to know  
How this foul rout began, who set it on,  
And he that is approved in this offense,  
Though he had twinn'd with me, both at a birth,  
Shall lose me. 

The Tragedy of Othello,  
The Moor of Venice

\-----o------------------------------------o-----

Safe House  
Stafford, Virginia  
Sunday, August 3, 1997  
12:14 pm

Walter Skinner paced by the far wall of the living room. Like most secure residences at the Bureau's disposal, the comfortable interiors were lighted by overhead florescents. What windows were present in the structure were small and thickened, set just under the ceiling to thwart snipers or surveillance. He passed in front of the wall-hugging sofa his two assistants had just vacated, before he spun to face the object of their investigation. 

The bearded African-American glowered back. "Why did you send them away? Is this when you drop the civilized facade, Director Skinner?" 

The bald man shook his head. "You've given us more to work with in the past few days than Mulder and Scully could uncover in five years." 

Saunders crossed his arms. He continued to dress as he always did, dark suit, conservative tie, even though the Bureau Director was in jeans and a polo shirt. "You know why, I'm sure." He leaned against the padded brocade back of the Regency-style armchair. 

Skinner took a seat on the incongruous sectional across from him. "Mulder's attentions have always been divided." 

Shifting the notepad he had placed on his lap, Saunders rested his wrists on the carved claws at the ends of the arms. "He wants to pursue the Organization, study the paranormal, *and* locate his sister. Some of those goals are mutually incompatible." Saunders narrowed his eyes at Skinner. "But you could be more forthcoming yourself. Much of what I know you do as well." 

Leaning back, the Director adjusted his glasses. "As you say, sometimes multiple goals are mutually incompatible. What Scully has convinced Mulder to seek is proof. What I could provide are only unsubstantiated allegations. By the time they arrived to verify some of what we both know..." He shrugged.

Saunders grunted. "There will be no evidence. My predecessor had that problem." Just as they both heard the door rattle, he set his lips in a tight line. 

Skinner's two assistants had returned, so the Director reactivated the tape recorder. "Mister Saunders, you were explaining the defensive agreements reached between the Japanese and Germans following the admittance of both to the UN." 

Saunders sighed at the charade. "It was a continuation of old practices, this reforming of alliances following a loss in armed conflict..."

\--o-0-o--

Secluded research facility  
upstate New York  
Sunday, 6:21 pm

Lindhauer and McConnell marched down a dark corridor, past thick doors with bars and seals. They stopped in front of one that was bathed in a ruby light, waiting until the doctor on their left had opened an air valve. 

By way of explanation, the man in the lab coat offered, "It takes a minute or two for the air to fill the interconnecting chamber. So far, they've tried various forms to pass through the vacuum, but the particle detectors have picked them up right away. They seem to be able to handle a lot more juice than we initially expected, but they're in there. Are you certain you wish to speak with them face to face?" 

Both Lindhauer's blond locks and McConnell's red curls bobbed. 

The guard on the right pulled the outer door aside. "There, I think it's safe now. We keep the room bathed in 683 nanometer wavelength light, so their signatures are obvious. If they try anything, we have IR lasers mounted in the ceiling." 

Lindhauer favored his subordinates with a blank smile. "Glad to know we have the best." He glanced at McConnell, who was rubbing one eye, then the pair entered. 

McConnell blinked rapidly. "Stupid contacts." 

They waited while the chamber door was shut behind them, then through the manual engagement of bolts. McConnell swiped his magnetic ID over the inner card lock, then fidgeted. 

"Password?" The voice was synthesized to sound neither male nor female. 

"Magrathea," Lindhauer replied, grinning in spite of himself. Three bolts were released electronically, then the two men pushed through the door, each attempting to elbow the other aside. 

Two brown-haired women in green scrubs were waiting, shoulder to shoulder, for Lindhauer and McConnell. 

"Let us go," the one on the left demanded. 

"We mean you no harm. We can help you, if you let us go," the one on the right cajoled. 

McConnell snorted, "Which science fiction movie did you two watch last night?" He waved at the TV mounted behind a plexiglass panel. "I'd rather hear you say 'there are others on the way.' Then we'd at least know where you stood." He sat at one of the metal folding chairs beside a steel table which had been bolted to the floor. "We have absolutely no intention of letting you go. We just need to figure out what kills you." 

Staring down his long nose at the women, Lindhauer crossed his arms. "It isn't radiation, fire, or oxygen deprivation. So what is it? Hum?" He strode forward to glare impatiently at them. 

The woman on the right stared back. "We'll make a deal. For our freedom." 

McConnell pounded on the table, then cursed as he dug at the contact in his left eye. "Oh, of course." He stood beside Lindhauer, his nose level with the blond man's shoulders. "Let me guess, if we agree to let you go, you'll give us the blueprints for your technology." 

Her jaw firm, the woman on the right nodded. 

McConnell's red curls turned from side to side. "Nothing doing." He bounced forward on his toes once. "Anything you would give us would take years for us to figure out. Even then, it might be a bomb or a dud."

Lindhauer grasped his colleague's shoulder. _I'm in charge here._ "Sure, we'll be glad to take plans for your technology. We'll just need to keep you here to answer any questions our scientists and engineers might have for the years they work on duplicating them." His icy blue eyes glinted. "Deal?" 

Arms crossed, the two women shook their heads. 

McConnell snorted. "Let's go. I've heard enough." 

Lindhauer waved to one of the cameras suspended from the ceiling. "I agree. This isn't accomplishing anything."

\--o-0-o--

Lecture Hall  
Cornell University  
Ithaca, New York  
Sunday, 7:16 pm

The packed auditorium rang with the sound of applause. The evening's speaker bowed slightly, then, as the acclaim ceased, called for questions from the audience. His crisp designer suit and closely trimmed dark beard were in deliberate contrast to the rumpled fatigues and wildly unkempt white hair of the acknowledged father of modern paleoanthropology, Louis Leakey. But Noel Boaz had a point to make, a future to forge different from the more famous members of his profession, like Richard Leakey or Donald Johanson. He pointed to a Japanese graduate student in the third row. 

"Doctor Boaz, you stated that you believe gorillas evolved after the split between hominids and great apes first, with chimpanzees appearing after the gorillas." 

The receding shock of black hair bobbed. "Yes, the cladistics indicate such."

Emboldened, the student continued. "But recent work with the structure of the Y chromosome in humans and chimps has revealed that in its most ancient form, the human Y is identical to the chimp Y. How do you reconcile those two facts?" 

The anthropologist smiled broadly before launching into his answer.

In the furthest row, one hulking figure leaned over to speak to the balding man beside him. 

"So this is how little they know of their own heritage. No wonder any efforts to direct their own futures are strangled by conflict and irresolution." 

The man with the black framed glasses responded. "Religion and racial differences can be forces for good or for ill. Our species was fortunate that the land masses of Al-ad-lattir all aligned along the equator so there are only simple variations among us." Both turned when one of the double doors behind them slid open. 

A slender woman, not differentiated in form or attire from many of the female students in the audience, entered. She took two steps toward them, then knelt before she whispered to the bulky figure, "I have what I need. We should continue to track the ancients." Both followed her out of the lecture hall.

As they walked, Pilot leaned over the woman. "They are not far?" 

She nodded, her long brown hair shifting around her shoulders. "But well guarded. And, the Group has a watch out for any matter in unexpected configurations." She patted her pants pocket. "The plans I have, may help us bypass that impediment." 

Engineer held out his hand. "When do you want me to begin, and where?" 

The three were edging purposely away from any parked cars or groups of summer students. 

The woman glanced up and down the sidewalk. "There are modifications that need to be worked out before you can begin to build. What did you learn? How much do they know?" 

Pilot shrugged. "Not very much. Ego seems to play as large a part in their acquisition of knowledge as their fossil record itself." 

Engineer nodded. "Not as it would be on our world." 

The woman's lips set angrily. "All this damage! Do they know?" 

Pilot shook his head. "It is as it was with all the simian species I have seen. They have no desire to understand and so ignore the evidence before them. Their primal homeland is falling into total ruin, taken by drought and over-dwelling." 

Engineer jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "If we can believe their expert, they don't even agree that there *is* a single homeland."

Pilot glowered back over his shoulder at the receding auditorium. "Blind prejudice, nothing more. Had the homeland lain to the north of the Equator, they would have been congratulating themselves on their noble descent, not arguing for multiple origins." 

As they continued, the slender student morphed back into the over-sized woman who had met Mulder and Scully in Huntingdon, Washington. "Or postulating seeding by outsiders to avoid the problem altogether. Their communal memories of primal gardens should have been a warning to them." She stopped, bringing the others around to face her. "So be it. This is what I need you to do:" 

Pilot and Engineer listened intently.

\--o-0-o--

Somewhere over the Atlantic  
Sunday, 8:23 pm

Max Lowenberg smiled over at his wife before glancing across the aisle to the brown-haired woman who was checking the animal carrier under her. "He'll be fine, Margaret. Dogs that size travel quite well." 

Margaret Scully slid the tan container into the passageway. "I know he will. He's been a good little soul ever since Dana gave him to me. I just wish I could take him out for a little while." 

Caroline leaned around her husband. "Oh, in an hour or so, you probably can. I've never seen a first class section this vacant. Besides, this is Air France. The Europeans are far more tolerant of animals than are the Americans." She smiled down at the round brown eyes, peering through the mesh of the cage door. "He'll be more entertaining than 'Terminator II', certainly." 

Margaret stuck one finger through to rub under the Pomeranian's chin. "The Righorns were leaving for their own vacation. I should have thought of that sooner." She sighed. "I hope..."

Max released the seat belt to rise, then kneel, beside her. "Dana and Mulder will be fine, Margaret." He leaned close to her ear. "I've put in a few calls, and some of my friends have them under surveillance as we speak." 

Caroline moved onto the cushions her husband had just vacated. "Before we left, I called the hospital and spoke to the physician on duty. Their injuries, while serious, are not life-threatening." 

Closing her eyes, Margaret crossed herself. "I just worry so. I can't begin to understand everything that's going on." She moved the carrier to the empty seat on her right. "To be so far away, when Dana may need me, feels like I'm shirking my duties to her." 

Grasping her arm, Max shook his head. "Nonsense. Dana needs you to help us more than she needs you to hold her hand, Margaret." 

Caroline chuckled. "Besides, knowing my son, he's probably giving her the full princess treatment, whether she wants it or not." She slid back to the window, reopened the pages she had been studying, then scribbled a note in the margin. 

Resting one hand on the top of the upright cushions, Max bent over his wife. "What are you thinking, Caroline?" 

She gazed up at her husband. "Mister Saunders was a real shock. He had been up to the house as a extremely young fellow before Bill and I separated for good. I had such hopes for him. If he's out of the picture, then I have to wonder whom my Mystery Man will turn to next." 

Max settled beside her. "Someone he can control. From what you've told me about him, he seems constitutionally unable to avoid attempting to play games within games." 

Caroline nodded. "So he can sit like a spider in the center of its web, pulling strands to set plots in motion with a single word. But, who will it be?"

\--o-0-o--

Queen's Hospital  
Inuvik, Northwest Territories, Canada  
Sunday, 4:28 pm

Lying on her side, Dana Scully felt another presence in her room. She called for her partner in a whisper, then began to rise. 

"Don't get up, Dana." It was a woman's voice, deep and earthy. 

Scully frowned. "Who are you?" 

A rumble, feeling like a tremor, crossed the room. Scully expected the mattress to shake, but it didn't. Instead, she heard a high, tinkling laugh. "Oh, you know me. I've been with you at various times throughout your life." 

Sliding off her bed, Scully crossed the room to her partner, who was sleeping easily. "Mulder?" 

"Don't bother waking him. Or, don't try. He's having the best rest of his life. Trust me on that." 

Wondering why it was so dark in the middle of the day, Scully peered around the room, finally making out the shape of a woman, wrapped head to toe in shimmering white. If she focused, she could make out the individual hairs of an Inuit fur suit. She knew from her readings that the Native Americans used two layers to keep out the cold, one where the hairs were turned in, one where the hairs were turned out. It was this outer layer that was waving, as if in a slight breeze. 

"Don't do that." 

Scully began approaching the figure, but her legs felt heavy, leaden. "Don't do what?" 

That rumble rolled beneath her bare feet again. "Don't take refuge in a litany of facts, Dana. Use your mind, all of it." 

Scully stopped to study her visitor. The white hood was pulled up around the woman's head, so much that it threw her face into complete shadow. The agent shifted to one side, allowing a thin beam of light from the outside to reflect off the area inside the hood. Scully fought to suppress a gasp. The woman's face was streaked in dirt and dried blood, contracted into an angry scowl, as well as missing one eye. 

Scully shrugged. "I still don't know who you are, or how you got in here." 

The figure stretched a fur-mittened hand toward the agent, but it was unnaturally short, as if absent all the fingers. "You do know who I am, Dana, you just don't know that you know." 

The auburn-haired woman chewed her lower lip. "You sound like my mother. A little." 

The visitor's clumped, matted hair slipped free of the bright hood. "That's a start. We'll go from there." 

"Scully?" 

The agent turned when she heard her partner's voice. But she was back in her bed, so the motion set her grunting helplessly.

Mulder was shuffling across the room, deep creases in his forehead. "You were talking to someone. I didn't know if you were in pain or not." Reaching her, he grasped her shoulder. "You okay?" 

Scully eased herself back onto the pillows. "Oh, I was just having the oddest dream. I'm sorry I woke you." 

Mulder shifted the chair so he could sit and talk. "That's all right. I wasn't sleeping very well anyway." 

Scully glanced at him sharply. "She said you were having the best sleep of your life." 

"Who?" 

"The woman in my dream." Scully eyed the dark-haired man cautiously. "Mulder, after I was returned, when I was in Georgetown, there was a Nurse Owens who helped me recover. She talked to me during my coma, tried to make me feel comfortable, like you did." She smiled, offering her thanks.

Mulder nodded to acknowledge the gesture. "You had most of the ER staff concerned for you." His eyebrows shifted along an uneven ridge on his forehead. "You *were* the center of attention." 

She held up her hand. "No, let me finish. When I asked about her later, the nurses told me there was no one named Owens that worked at the hospital, or that had ever worked at the hospital." 

He rubbed his chin. "So, you think this Nurse Owens was what, a guardian spirit?" His face pulled into a slight smirk. 

"Or a figment of my recovering psyche."

Grimacing, he shifted to relieve the pressure from his cast. "Is that what you think this woman now was?" 

Scully shook her head. "I don't know. I just have this feeling they're connected somehow."

He reached to brush her wrist with his fingertips. "Okay. Tell me what you've just dreamed. We should know from Fordyce that we can't always ignore what our sleeping minds are telling us." He dipped his head slightly, his voice taking on wry tones. "Even if we don't always agree what the meaning is."

Scully arched her brow, then nodded, settling in to recount her experience.

\--o-0-o--

Crime Lab  
J. Edgar Hoover Building  
Washington, DC  
Sunday, 9:16 pm

'Ace' rubbed her eyes. She had come here to test her latest banking access software now that she had a reliable decryption algorithm working. At the knock on the glass, she blanked her computer screen. "Come in!" 

A portly, bespectacled man entered, beaming when he saw her. "Lisa, you weren't home when I got back." Holding out his arms, he brushed her forehead with his lips after she settled against him. "Missed you." 

From the comfort of his embrace, she chuckled. "I had to get some work done, Drew. I keep getting distracted when I'm there for some reason." 

He cupped her cheek with one pudgy hand. "I couldn't imagine why." Lowering his lips to hers, he kissed her urgently. "Will you be long?" 

She nodded. "Afraid so. This will take some analysis on the SGI at Quantico, and as you know..." 

'Charlie' placed his hands on her shoulders. "It's off-limits except on the secure FBI net. Can I help?"

She smiled. "Do you mind reading back codes?" 

He shook his head. 

The brunette passed him a sheet of paper. "Then let's get started." She slid back into her chair, waiting while he rolled another seat over beside her. "I'll read a series of digits, you make sure they tally with what's on the list. Generating all these random numbers..." She stuck her tongue out. "I hated typing them all in."

\--o-0-o--

Queen's Hospital  
Inuvik, Northwest Territories, Canada  
Monday, August 4, 1997  
8:14 am

Shifting the pillows behind his back, Mulder watched the bathroom door, listening to Scully moving around inside. At the sound of a muffled grunt, he shoved himself off the bolsters. "You okay?" 

"In a minute!" 

One corner of his mouth turned up. _At least we're past the 'I'm fine.' stage._ Sliding off the mattress, he crossed their shared quarters to stand by the entrance. 

His auburn-haired partner had pulled it open to step through before his arrival. Her ashen face told him how painful this was for her, but she cocked an eyebrow at his presence. "Mulder, you should be in bed." She shivered. 

He grasped her elbow. "So should you, Scully. Ribs take time to heal. Besides, Rosen and Nichols will be here shortly, and they're almost as good at fussing as you are." He grinned. "Or perhaps, you should have a taste of your own medicine, Doctor." 

When another shudder ran through her, she leaned into his support. 

He waited, the creases in his forehead deepening as she shifted more of her weight onto his arm. 

Staring at the foot of her bed, its steel tubing covered with layers of yellowed paint, Scully blew out a short puff of air. She reminded herself sternly that she needed to take deep breaths to ward off pneumonia. For her partner's benefit, she muttered a grim joke. "What I wouldn't give for a friendly poltergeist to roll that contraption over here right now." 

Mulder chewed his lower lip. At this moment, he wanted nothing more than to carry Scully across the room, but neither his cast nor her ribs would permit any such handling, so he settled for wry encouragement. "Where are the Holveys when you need them?" 

Scully arched one auburn brow at his reply, then waited through another involuntary shudder. "Maybe we should have tested those mushrooms at Excelsius Dei after all." 

He snorted, then moved closer. "Scully, the cold took a lot out of us both and you took dives off the ice not once, but twice. You should - "

She cut him off with a wave of her hand, pushing herself away from his support. "Right. We *are* beginning to sound alike." She forced herself to inhale slowly, fully. Gritting her teeth, she padded across the room, sliding gingerly onto the mattress. 

Somber, Mulder hovered by her bedside. "Should I call the nurse?" Both of them looked toward the door when the knob rattled. 

Rosen's voice floated through from the hallway. "You two ready to receive visitors?" 

Mulder smirked. "After we stash the chips and cards we will be!" 

The two new X-Files agents took that as their cue, entering, Rosen first, then Nichols, the older agent carrying a stool from the nurses' station. 

Mulder settled in the armless metal chair by Scully's bed. "Are you guys ready to head back?" 

Rosen glanced at her partner before she replied, "You've heard from Skinner." 

Scully, now composed, nodded. "After he chewed Mulder's ear off for," she quipped gently, waving her hand at their surroundings, "our present accommodations, Director Skinner filled us in on Saunders's debriefing." She focused on the balding Montanan. "You've had extensive experience with interrogation, as I remember." 

Nichols grunted. "You could say that. I'd be more than willing to do whatever I can, Scully, but I don't like it that you two will be here alone." 

Mulder twisted on his seat, ignoring his partner's disapproving glare at his restlessness. "We'll be fine. Rosen needs to be there to check the information Saunders is providing against the X-Files and whatever the Gunmen can come up with. Right now, that's our top priority. We'll be returning as soon as we can both travel."

The balding Montanan and the wiry astronomer exchanged a glance before Rosen queried, "You're sure about this? Saunders *is* under continuous guard, and two Mounties aren't a match for what we saw out there on the ice." 

Scully frowned. "Neither is all the security the Bureau can provide, if our enemies want to eliminate him badly enough. We've lost too much already to let this opportunity slip away from us." 

Mulder nodded. "What we know is distributed, what Saunders knows isn't. I appreciate your concern for us, but I want you both on the next transport out of here." He stood, terminating the conversation.

Nichols patted his partner's arm. "Well, we've been told. Let's go, Ros." 

The brunette studied Mulder's face, then Scully's, before she nodded as she rose. "Okay. Just be careful." 

Scully lifted one corner of her mouth. "We'll be fine." Once the door had closed behind them, after the sound of footsteps had faded to silence, she bit down on her lip, suppressing a groan. 

Grasping the back of her head, Mulder felt her shudder. "I'm getting the nurse, Scully. You don't have to hurt like this." 

"No." The reply hissed out through clenched teeth. 

Stepping over to the door, he countered breezily, "Don't argue with me, I *am* the man in charge." He paused, but there was no denial in response. _It must be bad._

The morning nurse, a tiny, black-haired woman, stared over at the man in the cast crossing the hallway to her. "Mister Mulder, you shouldn't be up so..." 

He cut her off with a wave of his hand. "Doctor Scully needs some painkillers." 

The nurse flipped open a folder, one of twenty in metal binders hanging off the frame under the counter. "Let me check her dosages." 

Angry, Mulder walked around to her side. "I don't care about the charts. She needs them *now*," he demanded, frowning at the letters on her nametag, "Miss Riviera." 

She shrugged. "The charts say all prescription analgesics consistently refused." Sliding off her stool, she crossed her arms over her lab coat to glare up at the dark-haired man. "So what makes you think she'll take them now?" 

Mulder grinned down at her. "I haven't been the one persuading her to take them."

Riviera bent to retrieve several capsules from the cabinet under the counter. "Okay, but I'll have to page the Doctor." 

Mulder was halfway back to their room before he replied, "Go right ahead. But I'm sure he'll be as relieved as I am when she downs these."

\--o-0-o--

Inuvik Airport  
Monday, 12:14 pm

Rosen stowed her duffel in the mesh overhead bin, tugging on an interwoven strap to secure her luggage prior to departure. 

After adding his bag to a compartment three rows back, Nichols rejoined her, waiting until they were both buckled in for takeoff to speak. "Ros?" 

She rubbed her face. "Hum?" 

He shifted. "I still think you should go visit Cary and check out the evidence you've collected." 

She frowned over at him. "But you heard Mulder, we need to begin verifying the information we’re getting from Saunders." 

"Ros, I can call the Gunmen just as easily as you can. If those guys are anywhere as efficient as they were on the Bay, it won't be a stretch." A wan sense of lost opportunities began tugging down the corners of his mustache. 

She twisted to face him. "There's something behind this, Nic, isn't there?" 

Studying the bench across from them, he chewed the short, bristly hairs on his upper lip, but kept silent. 

Watching his forehead wrinkle and smooth repetitively, Rosen sighed. "Oh, right, tying up loose ends from the divorce proceedings."

"Yeah. I'd rather face a barrage of howitzers than go back for more meetings and papers and court appearances." 

Closing her eyes momentarily, she forced away memories of arguments overheard from the top of a flight of darkened stairs. "Nic, if it's any help, I'll be there. I've been through this already." 

He raised an eyebrow in surprise. 

She shrugged. "With my parents." 

He began picking at the knee of his trousers, alternately hiking the denim up slightly, then smoothing it back down. "Oh." He shook his head. "I can't hold on to her, but I don't want to lose her. I'd always meant this as a lifetime commitment." 

The propellers were spinning up, so they fell silent through the flight attendant’s safety presentation. 

Easing her seat-belt to a comfortable looseness, Rosen sighed. "Is there any chance you could bring her back to you?" 

Nichols shook his head. "Too many heated words, Ros, most of them mine. Alicia wants to go, and I can't blame her." He rubbed his eyes. "It's just harder than I thought it ever could be." He looked over at his partner. "That's why I think you should detour to Ithaca. I'll call if we need you for any reason, I promise. With only one suspect to interrogate, this case has become far less complex than Mulder thinks it is. The Bureau security system has worked well enough for the drug cases I've been on." 

She nodded. "Okay." She saw he was staring at the floor. "So, tell me about your girls. I know you talked to them last night." 

He grinned. "Well, Liz has started an epic. Some space thing. She actually promised to let me read it, this time." 

She smiled back. "Oh? How did Jane's track meet go?" _This should raise his spirits and kill a few hours, anyway._

\--o-0-o--

Ithaca, New York  
Wednesday, August 6, 1997  
10:49 am

Cary Jean Hooper scribbled 'toilet paper' on a blue memo pad magnetically mounted on her refrigerator. "Mom?" She heard the slow tap, tap of her mother's Irish walking stick, which had been the old woman's constant companion since her automobile accident in 1968. The aftermath of that crash had quietly driven her sensitive, artistic father to the edge of insanity, then out of their lives permanently with his suicide in 1969. 

Alice Hooper appeared in the doorway, one thickened sole catching slightly as she dragged her right foot over the doorjamb. The fiery collision had permanently shortened that leg, but she had never found a pair of orthopedic shoes that had fitted her properly. "Yes, Cary-child? Have you finally heard from that man of yours?" Alice's mouth set in its customary pinch, hairline wrinkles radiating from it out across her cheeks and chin. 

Cary sighed. Her mother steadfastly refused to acknowledge the true nature of her relationship with Andrea Rosen, even using 'he' when speaking to her life-partner's face. "Mom, *she'll* be arriving at the airport in two hours, and I wanted to stop by the grocery store on the way there. Is there anything we need?" She held the list, text upward, in front of the older woman's chest. 

The older woman snorted as she crossed the room to the lace-covered circular oak pedestal table where she deliberately scraped a rail-back chair to one side, then sat. After she hooked the knobby ash branch over the table's edge, she flipped up the earpieces on her black half-lenses to raise them over the bridge of her narrow Roman nose. Then she held out her hand. 

Obediently, Cary extended the sheet again. "Sorry, Mom. Would you like me to clean your glasses for you?" 

Alice lifted the silver chain joining the tips of the frame together over her head. "Of course. You know how clumsy I can be." She paused while she pointed a long, knobby finger at the cane. "Since then." Alice squinted at her daughter. "Don't use the Windex, use that cleaning fluid Doctor Alhandra gave me. Good for the lenses, he said." 

"Yes, Mother." Cary returned, lowering the chain carefully so as not to disturb her mother's tightly pulled white bun. After efficiently tucking the silver links under her Mother's collar, she asked, "Is that good?" 

Alice set the frames on her cheeks. "For now." She studied the sheet, then flipped it onto the table to rest against the stoneware sugar bowl. "Get the scented two-ply, if it won't offend that man of yours." She grabbed the cane. "Or even if it does. He won't be here long enough to matter. Men never are." She eased herself onto her feet. "Off with you now. Who am I to stand in the way of true love?" 

Cary sighed. "Yes, Mother." She followed the older woman into the den. "Will you be okay while I'm gone?" 

Alice was sinking into her green velvet recliner. "I won't die while you're out, if that's what you mean, Cary-child." She smiled up at the stocky black-haired woman. "But some water would be lovely." 

Long since sensitized to the detailed preferences implied by her Mother’s request, Cary nodded. She checked her watch while she filled a Wextford pitcher with pre-chilled water from the dispenser that occupied most of the top shelf in their refrigerator. Her wrist jiggled as she tested the weight as she set it and two matching glasses on a painted tin tray before she returned. "I really have to go now, Mom." She kissed the shrunken cheek quickly, then headed for the door. 

Alice called after her, "Don't take the b-u-y-pass. Those money-grubbing Democrats won't pay to finish the thing." 

"Yes, Mother!" Cary stepped through the door. _Those money-grubbing Democrats finished the highway ten years ago._

\--o-0-o--

Cary eased the battered station wagon into one of two handicapped spots. While Alice might despise liberalism in general, and those 'eggheads in their ivory tower, listening to bells ringing until it drives all good sense from their micro-brains' at Cornell in specific, she had no qualms whatsoever about taking advantage of their largesse. As she passed one of her neighbors, pushing a cart stacked high with handled white bags to the curb, Cary nodded to her.

Her thoughts returned to her preparations for Andrea's return. _Did I remember to change the aroma dispensers on the sink in the powder room? What about the ivy garden? Did I get that weeded in time?_ She smiled as she freed a red plastic basket from the stack inside the door. _Why am I worried about this? Andie's probably still living out of her boxes in some roach-infested efficiency in Virginia._ She checked her watch again. _An hour. I can just make it, if I hurry._

\--o-0-o--

Ithaca Regional Airport  
Wednesday, 1:37 pm

Rosen fidgeted impatiently behind the stewardess. _We've been parked for five minutes. Surely the portable stairway has arrived by now._ From the outside, she heard two raps as the motorized ramp latched into place, then the blonde in front of her began disengaging the locks and levers. _Finally!_ After six months apart, she and Cary would be reunited. 

Rosen draped her duffel strap over her shoulder as the door swung out and to the side. Smiling thoughtlessly at the blue-suited attendant, she hurried down the stairs, where the steward at the bottom pointed to the farther of two gate doors. The astronomer found she had to keep herself from running to it. 

Once inside, she scanned the crowds, looking for a round face framed by straight black hair. 

"Andie! Andie!" Cary was hopping, waving her arms to be seen over the shoulders of the crowd between them. 

Rosen spun to her left. "Cary!" She saw the shine in her life-partner's eyes. "I'm back!" She reached forward, weaving her way through those waiting to enact similar reunions to crush Cary to her. The over-stuffed duffel was tugged by a passing stroller, but neither of them cared. The two women rocked each other, struggling to contain their emotions. 

Cary had hooked her hands over the taller woman's shoulders. "I've missed you so. Are you okay? How was the flight? How is work?" Other couples around them were exchanging long kisses of reunion, but Rosen and Cary would wait to offer such intimate greetings until they were home. Despite the professed tolerance of the city, some things were better kept private. 

Rosen stepped back. _How do I tell her anything about the past few weeks?_ "It was okay." 

Cary's black eyebrows drew together. _Have we been apart too long?_ "Oh?" 

Rosen stopped. _She's afraid._ She draped her arm around her life partner's shoulders. "I've missed you so much. I've been so lonely." The pair threaded their way through the crowds to step into the afternoon sun.

\--o-0-o--

Safe House  
Stafford, Virginia  
Wednesday, 1:57 pm

When the entrance alarm sounded, Walter Skinner clicked off the recorder, then gestured to the shorter of his two assistants, one, Hispanic, the other, African-American. While the AD exited the room, the Hispanic agent slid beside the door. The surveillance monitor in the hall showed a stout, balding blond man in a tweed jacket waiting outside, so he passed through the foyer to open it. 

Nichols waved a greeting to his superior when he entered. "I wasn't followed." 

Skinner's jaw clenched. "Given your past, if you say that, I accept it. Mulder..." Locking the door, he shrugged. "Where's your partner?"

Nichols frowned. "In Ithaca. She had some loose ends to tie up from our previous case and now seems as good a time as any for her to attend to them." 

Eying the shorter man, Skinner sighed. "Well, let's hope she doesn't take too long. Mulder's left *us* with enough loose ends we'll have to tie up. I've had to pull Pendrell out of the Sci-Lab to run background checks. His Section Head was none too pleased." The bald Director looked Nichols over one last time before leading him into the living room. _There's more going on here than any of them will let on. I hope they know what they're doing._

Saunders turned toward them when they entered. "Who is he?" He glowered at the new face. 

The balding Montanan extended his hand. "Philip Alexander Nichols. I'm one of the two new X-Files agents working with Mulder and Scully." When the gesture went unacknowledged, he dropped his arm to pull out a chair. "You're the guy with all the information on this group that's on our tails?" 

Saunders glared again, not bothering to answer. 

Nichols crossed his arms. "So, tell me what your Group knows about these shape-shifting aliens. We'll be meeting them again, all too soon." 

The African-American glanced at the three other men, one leaning against the wall, the other two at attention in seats at the table before he replied. "I don't know what you mean." 

Nichols knew when he was being toyed with. "You know perfectly well what I mean! The aliens whose ship was discovered in the Arctic."

Saunders growled. "Look, Mister Nichols, the Organization deals with many different potentialities, not specifics. It was originally founded as a think-tank of sorts, to take advantage of the expertise not sucked into the Manhattan Project during the Second World War. It examined various scenarios and devised plans for defense. One of those scenarios dealt with a possible invasion of Earth by extra-solar intelligences." 

Nichols leaned back on the metal folding chair. "What about all the evidence Mulder and Scully uncovered?" 

Saunders glanced over at the tape recorder, noting that the white gears were motionless. He returned his attention to the blond mustache, generously sprinkled with grey. "Some of that we were aware of. Some, like the Kindred, once they morphed, we were not. But none of it rose to a threshold of significance for our plans." Anxious, he rose to begin wandering the room. "Look, if there were to be an invasion of the planet from the outside, just exactly how do you suppose we would defend against that?" 

Nichols grunted. "I'm not sure we could." 

Saunders's voice grew hard. "That is *not* an acceptable scenario!" He crossed the room in three swift strides, yanking the cord for the recorder out of the wall. "You won't get any of this down." He leaned into Skinner's face. "I mean that. I may be here to give you information on the Organization, but I'm no traitor to my own kind. Some plans need to stay secret." 

Nichols wiggled between them. "Whatever it would take, it would involve a huge amount of money and natural resources." 

Saunders turned his attention to the Montanan. "More than you can possibly imagine. It would also involve a coalition of all the Earth's nations, one that actually functioned effectively, unlike that farce in New York City." Still holding the power cable, he clenched his fists. "We had to put that together, to make it work. That meant a system of checks and balances so no one nation or group of nations could take control away from us." He yanked the black wires free of the silver unit on the table, dragging the cord behind him as he paced. 

Playing along, Skinner crossed his arms. "But why not just use existing nuclear stockpiles?" 

Saunders whirled, sneering at the bald man. "A hydrogen bomb? Something that puny? Be serious. Nothing we have presently was considered an adequate deterrent. And a Civil Defense plan? Forget it. It was eventually decided that we would procure any and all necessary raw materials: steel, diamond, silicon, precious metals. We would build prototypes, develop technology that would be beyond what any one nation could produce on their own, and have the capability of construction on a moment's notice. But to just stockpile weapons from the Fifties would be an exercise in futility."

Wondering what he had gotten himself into, Nichols chewed his mustache for a moment. He turned to Skinner. "If you will excuse me, I'm late for a meeting with some lawyers." 

His jaw firm, the Assistant Director nodded. "Good Luck." _I've held onto Sharon, while he's losing Alicia. I shouldn't gloat. They've been through so much more than we have._

\--o-0-o--

Law Offices  
Falls Church  
Wednesday, 3:32 pm

Alicia Nichols rubbed her temples, then released her silvering blonde shoulder-length hair. Sighing, she tucked it back inside the rubberized ribbon, then stared at the door. "He's late again." She looked across the rosewood table to her lawyer, who was blond and greying, his physique tall and lean like herself. _I'm glad my brother is handling this case. A schoolteacher can't afford all those legal fees._

Paul Anderson slid his reading glasses back onto his narrow Roman nose, then glanced over at his sister. "Annie, he was late for the wedding. Do you expect it to be any different now?" 

She shrugged, then reached across the table to grasp his wrist. "Thanks for handling this, Paul. I'm sorry you and Karen split last year." 

Closing the long folder with the divorce papers, he clasped her hand. "Ah, it'll be just like when we were kids again. Paul Anderson and his triple A sister, never separated. Once this is over, you and the girls can come out to San Diego and take a place close to me and the boys. Harvey and Murray need to spend time with their cousins, now that they're all of an age to appreciate each other." 

Alicia rolled her brown eyes when she heard her now-ex-husband's gravelly voice through the conference room door. "No, thanks, I know the way." Nichols entered, his shoulders sagging, sending apologetic glances to brother and sister. "Sorry. Traffic." He rested one hand on his ex-wife's back. "You been okay, Hon?" He bent down in an attempt to kiss her cheek. 

She turned her face away, so he slunk to the far end of the table, looking up only when she replied. "I've been fine. Paul's sent the Marshals to your apartment. Where were you, anyway? I thought this new job of yours was supposed to be better than the undercover work." 

Nichols interlaced his fingers while resting his arms on the smooth wood. "Ah, Alicia, if I told you, you wouldn't believe me." 

She crossed her arms. "Try me." 

He coughed, then responded softly, "The Arctic." 

Paul’s explosive snort brought all eyes in the room to him. "That's the lamest excuse I've ever heard! What would the FBI be doing in the Arctic? I can't wait to hear what you'll come up with to avoid our summons." 

Nichols shrugged. "Pursuing suspects in the murders of two people, possibly more." He eyed his brother-in-law, concluding cynically that a divorce lawyer never seemed to run out of clients in California. Noting the perfect tan, the still chiseled incisors, the gold bracelet, and the Armani suit, he mentally reviewed his own grizzled appearance. He had several pre-cancerous spots on his left arm, three chipped teeth from a particularly rough bust the year before, and enough wrinkles to interest Georgia O'Keefe. He knew he was no prize as he reached into his jacket for his pen. "Well, let's get this show rolling." 

Paul shoved the folder at Nichols. "I just wanted to remind you that these were our final terms, and that you agreed to them in court. We need your initials as proof that you'll honor your side of the divorce, especially as you are a month past the date you agreed to clear your personal items out of the house." 

Nichols flipped through the long sheets quickly, then looked to his wife. "Are you sure this is what you want, Alicia? I know I'm not the best husband in the world, but I never wanted to lose you like this." 

Alicia stared pointedly at her hands, folded in her lap. "It seems to be the best for all of us." She glanced over at Paul, who smiled as he nodded his support. 

Resigned, Nichols initialed his consent beside paragraphs which had been marked with small brass points that were clipped to the left side of the pages. The simple scrawls were yet another reminder of the finality of his actions, leaving a cold, empty ache in his gut as he closed the folder. After carrying the papers down the long aisle to Alicia, he stood by her side, rubbing her shoulder aimlessly while she added her own initials to his. 

Paul glowered. "Well, that's done. Alicia has already put the house up for sale. You'll have your personal effects out by the end of the week, either you come take them, or we can have them delivered to you, with instructions not to take care in the handling. Your choice." 

Nichols gazed fondly at his wife's profile. "No. I'll stop by. I want to see the girls one last time." He bent to kiss her cheek. 

This time, she raised it just enough for a quick brush of his lips. "Phil?" 

He turned back, a ghost of a smile appearing. 

She reached for his hands. "I'm sorry, too."

\--o-0-o--

Skala Fira  
Santorini, Greece  
Thursday, August 7, 1997  
8:27 am

Leaning to her right, Margaret checked the drop down the cliff as the donkey beneath her picked her way up the 580 shallow steps from the harbor to the town. _While this is all very interesting, it really wasn't necessary. Cable cars would have been fine with me._ Margaret heard an uncertain wuffle from the animal carrier strapped to the saddle. _I agree, Mister Fuzz. The sooner we reach the top the better._ She glanced backwards. 

Caroline called up encouragement from just behind her. "Hope you've enjoyed the cruise, Margaret, look at the sea!" 

Margaret lifted her eyes to the horizon. The waters of the Mediterranean were becalmed, with barely a ruffle of cat's paws to disturb the surface. She could hear her Captain explaining to her that they were in the wind shadow formed by the island of Thirasia, so that the waves were just beginning to grow. But the longshore current, curving around the point where the town of Ammoudi clung to the cliff tops, would still generate breakers. Further beyond, she could make out white froth around the rocks which had fallen, as they had for millennia, down the cliff's face. 

Caroline was beaming. "I love this trip. Max?" She, in turn, checked the donkey behind her. 

The white-haired man shook his head. 

Caroline nodded. Whoever had been shadowing them had not bothered to take the journey from the neat buildings of the 'port' of Skala Fira upwards to the town of Fira itself. There were other transports to the residences inland, but Max had primed the locals to be on alert for anyone suspicious, out of place. 

Max was not given to shouting, so him simply mouthed: "More at the top." in her direction. 

Caroline smiled. Apparently her husband had spent time prior to their marriage cultivating the people who lived here, forming them into an unofficial spy network to guarantee his and Thea's safety. _He must have made influential enemies with his treasure-hunting._ She wondered how she had managed to pick out a second husband who had led a life much similar to that of her first. Her eyes narrowed. _Only this doesn't involve torturing the helpless or futile, cruel experimentation on the weak. No wonder he feels free to share it with me._

The donkey up ahead took a misstep, the ring of hooves on stone bringing Caroline's attention to the woman above. _Poor Margaret. This is so far beyond anything she's known._ She patted the neck of the coal-black burro jenny beneath her, feeling muscles contract as the little beast set one foot above the other in an almost-straight line. "Don't fret, Margaret, there's never been a problem with this ascent. It's one of the great attractions of Santorini." 

"I'm fine," Margaret replied without turning, her voice flat. 

Caroline smiled again. "I'm sure you are, Margaret." _Like mother, like daughter._ "You'll notice how red the rocks are here. The little island in the center of the caldera, Nea Kameni, is the cone of an active volcano rising from the sea again." 

Margaret chuckled. "I know. I've listened to Dana and Fox argue about this place. She's tried to explain about how the eruption of Thera destroyed the Minoan cities here, generating a tidal wave that disturbed civilizations all around the Mediterranean basin. She's told me that the tsunami may even have been the event that spawned the story about the parting of the Red Sea." 

Caroline laughed, the gentle alto tones echoing slightly off the rock wall. "I can imagine what Fox says." She glanced back over her shoulder before suggesting, "We can visit the ruins if you'd like?" 

When a tiny black nose poked out through the mesh of the door, Margaret patted the animal carrier. "If we have the time."

Caroline settled back. "I'm certain we will."

\--o-0-o--

Queen's Hospital  
Inuvik, Northwest Territories, Canada  
Thursday, 12:21 pm

Mulder dropped the portable phone to his lap, shifting his free hand to terminate the call. 

Scully noted his frustration. "Those buttons?" 

He grunted. "Yeah."

She changed the subject quickly. "So, what did Nichols say?" 

Mulder swung his feet off the side of the mattress so he could face her as he talked. "Saunders is living up to his side of the bargain. He's revealed more information on the Consortium just today than we could ever hope to collect." He grinned. "And we have a volunteer to join our merry band."

She raised an eyebrow. 

Mulder cocked his head. "Pendrell. It seems Skinner is using him to run background checks." 

Scully studied her hands. "Oh. I thought I'd warned him away. He doesn't need to become enmeshed in our problems."

Mulder cocked his head. "I agree. While he's almost as useful as the guys," he offered, eying his partner's frown, "in certain respects, we really don't know enough about him to be certain we can trust him." 

Scully crossed the room to stand beside him. "That's the last thing I expected you to say, Mulder." Suddenly tired, she eased back onto her mattress.

Wincing sympathetically, he watched her shift her pillows to keep her back upright. "Just examining all possibilities, partner. I ran a background check on him after you approached him initially, only to find there was nothing he'd been cited for, ever. No traffic violations, not even a parking ticket. No commendations either. He seems perfectly average, which is odd for someone with a doctorate in Chemistry." 

Scully tossed her head, setting off a cascade of aches that made her regret the gesture. "Ah, but someone who's perfectly average can change reality as we know it." 

Mulder's face canted at an odd angle. "That's Le Guin, not Laplace, Scully. Maybe there's nothing more to him than just the helpful, pleasant tech he seems to be. But you've been around me long enough to know nothing is as it seems." He turned the metal chair by the bed to face his partner. "Speaking of that, there's something you need to know about our Doctor Curie." 

Scully frowned. "Mulder, what?" 

He eased himself down. "She's a lesbian." 

Scully narrowed her eyes at him. "So? What does that matter?" 

Mulder studied her face carefully. "It doesn't. I just wanted you to know." 

Scully sighed. "You thought with my Catholic upbringing that it would be a problem, didn't you?"

Mulder shook his head. "No. Nichols told me at the Gunmen's and I don't want there to be secrets between us, Scully. It's not good for our survival." 

Scully slid off the mattress, walking around the room. Silence settled over them, Mulder watching her perambulations. Finally, she reached out to rest her hand on his shoulder. "Thanks. I hope we can keep this openness between us, Mulder. Now that we have some idea of where your sister might be, I was afraid..." 

He stood, looking down at her. "You were afraid of what?" 

A knock on the door interrupted them. "Anyone for lunch?" It was the youngest of the nurses, her brown eyes lowered apologetically. "Sorry." 

Mulder chuckled at the girl's discomfort. "Oh, more mystery meat and vegetables leftover from army radiation tests. Yum." He pointed at Scully. "The Doctor here was just telling me how much this is like my own cooking." 

Scully crossed over to her, taking the tray she held. "Don't worry, Elizabeth. His bark really is worse than his bite. Thanks. I'll bring it out when we're finished." She carried the steel platter in her good hand, keeping the extra weight off the damaged ribs. 

The white-clad nurse vanished down the hall. 

Scully placed Mulder's lunch on his bed-tray, then sighed. "I really wish you wouldn't terrorize the help, Mulder, we *do* need them." 

As he eased himself back into the bed, he feigned surprise at her rebuke. "And to think, here I've been on my best behavior, Doctor. Just because I told them a little about Tooms is no reason for them to assume I'm dangerous." 

Scully carried her own bowl back to bed, debating whether to dignify the silliness with a response before she teased, "Oh, look, salad! I wonder who told them I wanted that?" She cocked an eyebrow at her partner, who was smirking as he chomped down on his hamburger. 

After a quick gulp, he muttered, "Ah, the guys. Bribery will get me anywhere."

\--o-0-o--

Hooper residence  
Ithaca, New York  
Thursday, 2:47 pm

Andrea Rosen set the last of the lunch dishes in the drainer, finding she was restless, wondering how her partner was handling Skinner without her. She smiled as she heard Cary's house slippers whisper across the terra-cotta tiles of the kitchen. 

The black-haired woman enclosed the slender agent's waist in her short arms, her fleshiness contrasting with Rosen's muscles. "Whatcha thinkin'?"

Rosen sighed. "I was just worried about my partner." 

Cary tightened her clutch, pressing herself firmly against the taut spine. "You've told me so much about him, I almost feel like I know him. Is he having second thoughts about his divorce?" 

Rosen crossed her arms over the tiny hands pressing into her abdomen. "Regrets is more like it. Actually, I was more concerned with how things were going at the Bureau. He told me on the plane home that he wasn't looking forward to interacting with Skinner so closely. They were at the Academy together."

Cary released the taller woman, rubbing circles in her back with her hands. "Oh? Were they friends?" 

Rosen shrugged. "Friendly rivals is more like it. Nic has this really grey mustache that turns down at the ends when he's upset. Well, he made light of it, but his whiskers were practically to his jaws when he told me he was bothered that he'd bested Skinner on nearly every test or examination at Quantico. Then, of course, Nic's undercover chasing drug dealers while Walt, as he likes to call him, is back at headquarters, rising through the ranks. Now, he's working for a man who works for - ooh, that feels too good." 

Cary leaned against Rosen, running her hands down over the tapered, rock-hard muscles of her thighs. "Um-hum. Keep talking."

Andrea bit her lip. "Is your Mom settled?" She felt Cary's head move up and down against her back. 

The black-haired woman sighed. "I think so. This is the hour for her 'refresher sleep', and you know how Mom feels about regularity. She pretends to be so helpless, especially when she's afraid I might leave her."

Rosen turned to tuck Cary under her chin, hugging her tightly. "I never want it to come to that, Sweetheart." She kissed the peak of each eyebrow lightly. "I need you, but your Mom needs you, too. I just wish you could come to DC and live with me, both of you. There are so many things we could do together, and we could be almost as free with each other as we are here." 

Cary stood on tip-toe to kiss Andrea's chin. "Right. It's so open here we're afraid to greet each other the way spouses should at the airport." She nuzzled the taller woman's neck. "I've missed you so. Last night was the first time I've slept well since you left." 

Rosen held her away from her to meet her eyes. "Cary, you can't really mean that! Why didn't you tell me?"

The black-haired woman slid both hands up under Andrea's t-shirt to begin a gentle massage, pleased when the younger woman gasped. "Some things aren't as good on your own."

Suddenly, Andrea Rosen found that all thoughts of silicon-eating bugs, morphing aliens, and troubled partners had fled. Instead, the world contracted to the woman in front of her, so she lowered her mouth to meet the soft lips, which were parted and inviting, eager for hers.

\--o-0-o--

Rowhouse  
Capital Hill, Washington, DC  
Thursday, 9:12 pm

Loud squeaks escaped from the jogging shoes of a tall blond man with a long narrow face as he paced over the newly-white planks of his row-house porch. A shorter, red-haired man, adjusting black frames on his nose, stepped down out of the living room to peer up both sides of the street. 

McConnell tugged on his glasses one final time before he grunted in frustration, then snapped off the television. "Where are they? They've never been late before." 

Lindhauer crossed his arms. "I just heard there was an accident on the Beltway, so they'll take time to get in from Maryland." 

Both glared into the darkness when they heard a snick of a cigarette lighter closing, then a man in grey appeared, creases deeply etched in his cheeks. 

After taking a few puffs, he nodded to them both. "You see? Things *do* change, don't they?" 

Glowering, Lindhauer stared down his long nose at the old man. "Nonsense." He cocked his head at McConnell. "'Andrew' and I know how bad the traffic is around here. No games. Why did you want to call this meeting, anyway?" 

The man took a long drag, then dropped the cigarette, stamping it out on the stones of the walkway. "Let's continue this inside, shall we?" Once the three were seated at the dining room table, he reached into his pocket to lift out a fresh white tube. 

McConnell shook his head. "New city ordinance. No smoking." 

The old spy arched one eyebrow. "Can't run their own government anywhere but into massive debt, yet they want to regulate what happens in the confines of a private residence." Dropping the pack on the placemat, he snorted. "Very well. I wanted you four here because we need to discuss a replacement for our latest traitor." 

McConnell rolled his eyes. "'Finn' and I have been discussing that. We don't want a replacement for Saunders. We want to eliminate the whole batch of them once and for all. They're vulnerable right now, made soft by their numbers and their success. We could get to Mulder and Scully in that two-bit day-care center they call a hospital in Canada, as well as eliminating Saunders, Skinner, and Nichols, all at once. That would only leave Rosen and the Gunmen, who could be silenced at any time." 

A shadow crossed the old man's features. "What about the secretary, Cynthia?" 

Lindhauer's jaw clenched. "Leave her out of your plans. She's no threat to anyone." 

A grey and a red brow raised at the objection. McConnell made a mental note to take his friend from Wall Street aside for a private chat later. 

The Smoking Man leaned across the table. "You see how the circle widens. Kill, what, four prominent law enforcement professionals, and a well-known lawyer, then it's secretaries, scientists, lunatics, family members. Where would it end? Director Freeh? Senators? Swiss dignitaries?" His stained fingers caressed the pack, filling the night with crackles from the cellophane. "No. I explained this to your associates while you were in the Arctic, but, it looks like I'll have to repeat the history lesson." He eyed them both, shoulder to shoulder across the long mahogany table from him. "Tell me why, when the road to Baghdad was open in the Gulf War, we didn't march in and arrest Saddam Hussein." 

Lindhauer clenched his fists. _What can we learn from yesterday's news? Today is all that counts!_ "Because it wasn't in the UN mandate. Why else? Once Kuwait was freed, the coalition wouldn't have held together." 

The old man snorted. _Ignorant punk._

McConnell shook his head. "No. Great powers in the past have used similar windows of opportunity to attempt to retire pesky opponents. Hussein had ruthless eliminated any and all opposition to his regime. He survived because it was deemed better to leave him in place, then remove him and, in the power vacuum his absence would create, watch Iran, Turkey, and Saudi Arabia step in to carve up the country." The red-haired man leaned back. "Or, more succinctly, the Devil you know is better than the Devil you don't." 

The old man grimaced with delight. "I see someone has read his Plutarch. Precisely." He faced Lindhauer. "Who is the leader of our opponents?"

Lindhauer grunted. "Matheson, who else?" He hesitated at the old man's snort.

McConnell sighed. "No, Mulder. He plays at listening to the three others, gives the appearance of subordinating himself to Skinner and Matheson, but if he isn't interested in a case, it isn't pursued. If he is, he'll warp every resource at his disposal to investigate."

The old man's eyes glowed. "Quite. Mulder is a known quantity. We push certain buttons, he responds in a predicable manner. But to do that, we need an informant, a double agent." 

McConnell shrugged. "Well, with Saunders in protective custody, we already took it upon ourselves to make certain we had him under surveillance." 

The old man rose, taking the pack, then stepping outside. "Excuse me."

Lindhauer reflected during the break. _If I don't move now, that old man will be leading us all around by the nose. If there's going to be an informant, it has to be someone I can control. But that means not 'Ace' or 'Charlie'. It can't be 'Andrew' or myself; we've been seen._

McConnell paced in the living room. _We need an informant, but who? 'Ace'? We need her right where she is. 'Charlie' would know enough to be useful; the man can pull facts and figures out of his head I had no idea existed. But to let him become the tool of the old man? Never. They worked together too closely in the past._

Both their reveries stopped at the sounds of an approaching engine. 

Lindhauer rose quickly. _Best to assert my authority now!_ He walked briskly through the house, down the path, then opened the passenger door, smiling at the slender brunette emerging. "'Ace'! Rotten traffic, right?" 

She rolled her eyes. "You can't imagine." She held up several fingers. "Three tractor-trailers." 

'Charlie' spread his arms. "Debris everywhere. Fortunately, there was a flat-bed transporting some construction equipment not too far behind the accident, or all lanes would still have been blocked." 

McConnell joined them. "Oh, you took the Beltway? The traffic reporter said they got one open, then people began shooting through." 

The old man stepped around the BMW to pat 'Charlie' on the back. "Drivers were more civilized in my day. Shall we?" 

Lindhauer and McConnell exchanged a glance at the gesture. _We know *his* choice._

Before 'Charlie' could shake the old spy loose, the man in grey had draped his free arm around 'Ace''s shoulders, pulling both of his proteges close to him. _I'll succeed in controlling these kids yet._

\--o-0-o--

Rowhouse  
Capital Hill, Washington, DC  
Thursday, 9:37 pm

All seated around the mahogany table, the five were eying each other warily. 'Charlie' had edged his chair as close to 'Ace''s as he could, the Smoking Man equally close to his. Lindhauer and McConnell faced them, attempting to appear at ease with this new situation. 

Lindhauer rested both hands on the rattan placemat. "Well, I guess we know why we're all here." He watched sweat begin to bead on 'Charlie''s forehead. _Could it possibly be that this isn't a job he wants?_ "We need to name a replacement mole to misdirect Mulder and those around him. It can't be 'Andrew' or myself. Mulder and Scully have seen us both." 

The old man leaned forward, perfectly willing to bide his time. "But why should we contact Mulder again? Why shouldn't we use Rosen or Nichols?" 

Icy blue eyes shot daggers at the wrinkled visage. "Because they won't be a part of the section for long." 

McConnell stared, openmouthed. _What is he thinking?_

The old man settled back, crossing his arms. _Very well, let's see what you have._ He nodded for Lindhauer to continue.

Lindhauer's long pale fingers tugged at a stray fragment of rattan. "I've already put the bug in Matheson's ear that the X-Files Section isn't giving him sufficient returns for all the flak he's taking in committee." 

'Ace' tipped her head. "Oh?" 

McConnell nodded. "Randall's been our official spokesman on this." He crossed his arms. "As you know, the Senate has, for years, made it a priority to oversee the Justice Department for fraud and abuse." 

'Charlie' chuckled. "As I remember, that was how Randall got here in the first place." 

Lindhauer cleared his throat. "Well, it's been fun watching that Marine grit his teeth." He flashed a quick, mirthless grin. "There are enough inexplicable irregularities and technical violations in the operating procedures of the Section to grill him endlessly. And so far, all they can prove conclusively is that weapons were snuck illegally out of Germany at the end of the war by persons now dead." 

'Ace' narrowed her eyes. "Having Saunders's testimony would change all that. He was too deeply involved in too many operations for us to hide the evidence, as we did with the warehouses at the beginning of the year. If we can throw enough suspicions on the results of this very expensive inquiry, we can effectively eliminate the threat the expanded Section poses. The responsibilities involved in the job are more than I can assume right now with the new banking software coming on-line. That leaves only one candidate." 

Four pairs of eyes focused on the pudgy, slightly shiny face ‘Charlie’ had turned down toward the table.

He gulped. "Uh, guys, I'm not sure I'm up for this." 

'Ace' took his arm. "Of course you are, Drew." 

McConnell and Lindhauer growled at this breech of protocol. 

She glared at them before she continued. "You know the inner workings and history of the Group almost as well as Saunders. After all, you oversaw the reclassification of all those records two years ago. I know if they tried to grill you on something, you could pull a disconnected answer off the top of your head that would keep them busy for months." 

'Charlie' squeezed her hand. _I know you mean well, Lisa, but after what happened to the old man, then the criteria we used to select Saunders, well._ He shivered as he smelled the nicotine-tainted breath coming over his shoulder. _I don't want to play *his* game._

McConnell leaned over. "If it would make you feel better, we could put the matter to a vote so you won't feel you're being dictated to." 

'Charlie' nodded. "Yeah, that would help." 

The old man grunted. "This isn't a democracy. Democracies invariably are ruled by mobs, who inevitably are swayed by foolish enticements." 

Lindhauer pounded the table with his fist. "Spare us the ancient history!" He glared around the table. "Shall we do this with a show of hands, or a secret ballot?" 

'Ace' shrugged. "Secret ballot. That way each of us can give our opinions without feeling pressured." She squeezed the thick palm back. 

'Charlie' smiled, looking at ease for the first time since their arrival. 

The old man stormed away from the table. _These idiots! Do they think this is a parlor game?_ He stepped outside, lighting a cigarette with shaking hands to calm his nerves. _I have to play this cool. They're not divided enough, not yet._ Waiting until he was finished, he found several contingency plans forming. _Good. Good. That I can use._ Settling his features into their controlled mask, he strode back inside. 

The Smoking Man leaned over McConnell, who was rolling five sheets off a post-it pad. "You never said how it went at the research facility." 

Lindhauer joined them. "A total waste of time. The pair offered their technology in exchange for their freedom." 

'Ace' smiled. "We expected that. What did you say?" 

McConnell handed her the paper. "They really have nothing to offer us. We have samples of their cellular structures, taken while they were unconscious. We couldn't understand their materials and technology without them, and we have no intentions of keeping them alive any longer than it takes to catch the other three. We left." 

The old spy nodded. "That was wise. Any solutions they offer us," he explained as he spread his hands, "should we succeed in understanding them, would more than likely be useless against any truly hostile aliens that might discover us. It would be like developing the technology to mass-produce the finest Samurai swords, only to have to use them as defensive weapons against Gatling guns." He rubbed his palms together. "Shall we?" _There. I've proved myself reasonable. Perhaps that will sway this to a four to one vote._ He respected his former subordinate for his trepidation, showing he'd learned the lessons the past had to offer. 

'Ace' drew a line down the center of each sheet, then one across the bottom of the glue section, forming a rough T. Passing one to each, she explained, "Put a dot on the left side if you want 'Charlie' to be our new contact, a dot on the right if you don't." She waved up the stairs. "There are five rooms, counting the bathroom. Go in, vote, fold the paper over, then come down and drop it in this sack." She held up a blue velvet bag with Chivas Regal embroidered in silver letters on one side. 

Each carrying one page and a pen, the five filed upstairs. When the four men returned, Ace was already seated at the dining room table, the bag turned inside out. 

At Lindhauer's raised eyebrow, she shrugged. "I just wanted everyone to see I hadn't stuffed the ballot," she explained, smirking at her little joke, "bag." She flipped the cloth velveted side out, then dropped in her sheet. 

When all five papers had been pushed inside, McConnell took it, shaking it vigorously. Then he laid the yellow slips out side by side, opening each one by one. 

The first had a large circle on the left. 'Charlie' closed his eyes, then shuddered. 

The second had a thick black dot inscribed exactly in the center of the left square. Glancing at the programmer, seated with her head down, 'Charlie' gulped. _One more, and I'm a dead man._

The third had a tiny dot on the right that McConnell had to hold close to his nose to see before he apologized, "I gotta get new contacts. These glasses are useless." 

Tapping his own thick lenses, 'Charlie' sympathized. "Yeah, that's why I've stuck with these all these years." He gulped involuntarily, since that had been his page. _One more. Please, not one more._

The fourth, when opened, revealed a jagged scratch down the right side. The old spy snorted his disgust. 

The fifth had a long X on the right. 'Charlie' began gulping great breaths of air, feeling his knees go wobbly. 

The Smoking Man stormed out onto the porch, pacing his way through three cigarettes before he returned. _Punks! All of them are punks!_ He left without speaking again.

'Ace' grasped 'Charlie''s waist immediately. "Hey, that's okay. We'll work something out." 

Lindhauer glared through the glass at the man outside. "Indeed, we have. We fall back on the original plan. We terminate Saunders." 

McConnell nodded. "Good. We've been entirely too easy on Mulder and his crew. I like this better, even if it isn't the most politic course of action." 

'Ace' looked from one to the other. "But how? Saunders is in a safe-house right now, guarded around the clock." 

Lindhauer found he had to stop himself from laughing out loud. "But some of the guards are ours." 

Finally returning to the present, 'Charlie' gasped out a single word. "How?"

McConnell patted him on the shoulder. "Oh, they're ours, they just don't know it yet." He looked out the window. "Where'd he go?" 

'Ace' stepped through the open door. "He's not there. I guess we didn't live up to his expectations." 

Lindhauer narrowed his cold blue eyes. "Or down to them. We still run things around here, not him." He grasped 'Charlie''s shoulder. "I hear through the grapevine congratulations are in order. You two set a date yet?" 

'Ace' swatted the pudgy man's shoulder. "You told them!"

He squirmed. "Sorry. I couldn't contain myself." 

'Ace' set her fists on her hips. "I haven't even accepted. There's too much to think about right now." 

McConnell hugged her. "Don't worry about it. 'Charlie''s a lucky guy." He jerked his head toward the door. "Black Lung was attempting to insinuate otherwise, but you're blessed to have each other. Whatever you two decide is fine with us." 

The brunette shrugged free to lean against her seated lover. "Yeah, guys, thanks. But I have some work to do. Drew?" 

He glanced up. "You want to go? Sure." He rose, looking the other two men in the eye. "Thanks, I really didn't want to get wrapped up in his machinations. You don't know what he's capable of." 

Escorting them to the door, Lindhauer nodded. "I'd like to make sure we don't find out."

\--o-0-o--

Safe House  
Stafford, Virginia  
Thursday, 10:17 pm

Awakening to loud raps on the door, Saunders grumbled as he rolled over in bed. _Who would be here now?_ "Just a minute." He stumbled toward the entrance to his bedroom suite. "Who is it?" 

"Walter Skinner." The tone was level, controlled, as always, but this time, there was an undercurrent of impatience. 

Saunders frowned. _Or was that frustration?_ He pulled the door away. "What?" _Two could play at this game._

The bald Director, his glasses askew, was buttoning his own shirt when he looked up. "Get your clothes on. This place has been compromised. A small amount of plastic explosives have been found on one of the above-ground power lines leading up the road." 

Instantly, Saunders reached for his shoes. "How did you know?" 

Skinner glared. "We aren't complete bunglers. We have the place checked by bomb-sniffing dogs every morning and night. Just now, they found something." 

Saunders grabbed his jacket, then stepped into the hall. "How do you know it isn't a decoy?" 

Skinner waved him in front of him. "We can't take that chance now, can we? We have a car waiting for you behind the house. Hurry."

\--o-0-o--

Safe House  
Saltville, Virginia  
Friday, August 8, 1997  
3:51 am

Holding the grey suit jacket by both padded shoulders, Saunders draped the wool over the narrow aluminum chair in the small room that was now his. 

Walter Skinner spoke from the doorway. "This is the best we can do on such short notice. The place in Wheeling may have been compromised as well; it's too soon to tell." 

Saunders lowered himself onto the wheeled steel-framed bed, interlacing his fingers behind his head, feeling the heat from his hands seep into the bare metal. "I've done worse." He regarded the Director with something close to affection. "When shall we continue the debriefings?" 

A shadow passed over the bald man's face. "In the morning. We need to find two more agents we can trust to spell the ones already here." 

Saunders swung his legs off the bed. "What about Mulder and Scully? Aren't they back from the Arctic yet?" 

Skinner sighed. "Thanks to a bit of unnecessary derring-do on Agent Mulder's part, he and Agent Scully are recuperating in perhaps the smallest hospital Mulder's managed to inhabit yet." 

Saunders favored the bald Director with a faint smile. "Ah, Mister Mulder. Such a problem. For both our sides." 

Skinner stepped into the room, settling in the chair. "Something I've always wondered. Why didn't..."

Saunders shifted closer to the head of the bed. "We eliminate Mulder, given his utter lack of concern for his own safety?" He stood, clasping his hands behind his back. "Our mutual smoking acquaintance put it best: 'Better the Devil you know than the Devil you don't.' Mister Mulder served the purpose of an excessively vocal distraction." He fixed the seated man in his penetrating gaze. "Oh, I know from the Bureau's point of view, until he was paired with Scully, he was an utterly uncooperative loner." 

Skinner nodded. "But for the Organization, he was merrily off chasing butterflies - " 

Saunders grunted his assent. "And bringing cameras along for the ride."

Skinner stood, bending until he was nose to nose with the African-American. "So, where is his sister?" 

Saunders waved one hand. "After she was reprogrammed, we made sure she was shuffled around until her exact whereabouts were unknown, even to us. Perhaps Mister Morley knows, but none of the rest of us do. The records and samples for her have not been updated after about 1975. Two men can keep a secret if one of them is dead, a certain mutual colleague also once advised."

Skinner set his jaw. "That way, even if Mulder does get his hands on them, he still has no easy solution." 

Saunders nodded. "Exactly." That slight smile flitted over his features, then was gone. "Even if he breaks us, he still has one windmill left to tilt at."

\--o-0-o--

Cornell University  
Ithaca, New York  
Friday, 11:19 am

Andrea Rosen slid Cary's battered station wagon into one of the visitor's parking spots. It felt odd, being back here after finally finishing with her degree. She remembered her stomach churning before so many exams, then at her dissertation defense, she had been so nervous, she hadn't slept more than five minutes the night before. _Insomnia._ Something she and Mulder shared when it came to dealing with anxiety. _But you don't have anything to fear here, anymore._

Turning off the engine, she reached across the seat for her backpack, still stuffed full of equipment from the trip to the Arctic. She hadn't told Mulder about this in the hospital room, basically so he and Scully would rest the way their bodies obviously needed, but she had told Nichols. She and Langly had done a little exploring while they had waited for Baird and the plane. For some reason, the mysterious troops who had taken the two women away had abandoned the ship on the ice. So, the Gunman and Agent had left Mulder and Scully for a few minutes to settle their arguments about propulsion systems. 

The interior of the crew compartment of the craft had been less damaged than they had expected, so they had swept it, first for conventional radiation, which they found little of, then for UV sources, of which there were many. The technology had an almost organic look to it, all curves and tubes, with no obvious buttons or weaponry. _Just what one would expect. Each sentient species develops technologies that fit it best._ Langly had staggered out of the vessel with as many undamaged parts as he could carry, she only a few less. In the bag was what looked like some sort of control circuit; it was this she wanted to show to her buddies in the nanotechnology lab. _Maybe they can make sense of it all._

As she entered the building, she nearly collided with a giant of an African-American man, dressed in tattered jeans and a faded Star Trek T-shirt. His sunken cheeks and gaunt limbs added to the appearance of a vagrant, but one glance at his lively brown eyes said otherwise. 

The dark-haired beanpole beamed at her. "Andie! You're back!" Laughing, he hugged her, lifting her feet off the floor in his delight. "Couldn't give up the hallowed halls of academe, I see." 

She smiled. "Hey, Arnie, you're just the man I wanted to see." 

He patted his chest. "Just the man? Andie, you feeling okay?" 

She waved her hand at him. "Arnie, you know better. I have something I want you and the guys to shoot some electrons at." 

He winked. "Super-secret spy stuff already, Andie? Am I going to have to give up my NAACP membership after this?" 

She rolled her eyes. "Arnie! That was years ago. Hoover's dead. Haven't you heard?"

As he pulled a wide lab door open, he bent over her. "Ooh, no, I thought he was in cryo somewhere." 

Rosen grinned at the backs of two other men, who were staring at an image displayed on a seventeen inch CRT. "Arnie! That's Lenin, and he's just embalmed." She patted each man on the shoulder. "Richie, Dale, hi!" 

Both men were blond and blue-eyed, but Richie's portentous girth showed his years working too many late nights at the computer. If six of Dale were squashed together, they might come close to equaling the volume of the man he was arguing animatedly with. 

Dale took Rosen's backpack. "So, to what do we owe this honor, Special Agent Doctor Rosen?" 

She shrugged. "I was in the neighborhood." 

Richie sucked the last of his Coke Classic out of its can with a straw, transferring the plastic tube to a new one almost immediately. "They do any science at the Bureau? All we hear about are the troubles with the lab in downtown DC with DNA machines next to radiation counters and all that." 

Pulling a lab stool over, she settled on it, holding the rim with both hands between legs splayed out for balance. "Ah, don't believe it. Yeah, the Hoover Building's really crowded, but in a couple of years the new facilities at Quantico will be fully operational. Then, watch out. And yes, I *have* done some *real* science. We found an Archaea-bacterium on our last case." 

Arnie pulled himself up onto the lab table. "You being straight with us, Andie?"

She nodded. "We're having it tested," she reassured them as she leaned toward Dale, "outside the Bureau. It seems to preferentially seek out silicates as an energy source." 

All nervous motion, Dale rocked back and forth on his stool. "Ooh, that's as weird as the arsenic-eater they found. Those bacteria keep turning up everywhere. Wose may be up for a Nobel for his original work." 

Rosen nodded. "So I'd heard." She pointed to her bag. "Pass me that, if you don't mind." Once the circuit was free, she handed it to Arnie. "Take a look at what's inside, any part of it, and tell me what you think." 

Arnie busied himself with breaking off a small section, preparing it to fit into a standard mount for the electron microscope, then loaded it up for viewing. Richie's fingers flew over the controls, setting magnifications and depths. 

Once an image formed on the screen, Dale gasped. "Andie! What is this? We could only dream about this degree of sophistication in atomic arrangements. That guitar took weeks to set up!" 

The three men focused on her. 

Rosen shrugged. "We removed it from an experimental ship we found. What can you tell me about it?" 

Standing behind her, Arnie crossed his arms. "It looks like carbon atoms in a matrix. I'd ask Bill, but he's been acting really weird lately." 

Rosen looked up at him. "Oh? Where is he, anyway?" 

Dale sighed. "Since Wilson rejected his thesis proposal, he's been living mondo strange, almost like he's a different guy." He cocked his head at the screen. "But Arnie's right. This'd be a piece of cake for him to analyze."

Rosen checked her watch. "Well, no matter what, Bill won't roll in here until after lunch anyway. What say I buy for you guys?" 

The three men beamed, Arnie glancing at Richie before he joked, "Hey, they must pay you big bucks at the Bureau!"

\--o-0-o--

Dark Apartment  
Washington, DC  
Friday, 12:03 pm

The first sensation he had was of an itch. His cheek rested against something stubbly. As he curled his fingers until the tips rubbed against it, the word 'carpet' appeared in his mind. 

Next, he concentrated on opening his eyes, seeing only darkness initially, then a thin sliver of yellow light hitting directly into his left pupil. _I'm in a closet._ Why his mind seemed to be working on one level where lying on carpet in a closet made perfect sense, yet he was as weak as a, as a... _No word for that yet._

_Nothing seems to be damaged, so let's check this situation out._ He reached over to his left, his fingers contacting cloth, then the hard surface of a wall. Whatever a closet was, it wasn't very large. He rolled himself quickly into a sitting position, the effort slamming his forehead against the area where the light peeped in. The flimsy wooden door gave way, forcing him to cover his face against the full light of day. 

Crawling out of the cramped space, his knees chafed on polyester yarns, so he stared down at the boxers and undershirt he wore. _Why are these not nearly enough clothes?_ Standing, he reached back into the closet to pull a light chain. On his left, a thick clot of long-sleeved white shirts hung, each between spacers to keep them wrinkle-free. _Why does that matter?_ On the right, several identical grey suits, all exquisitely tailored, waited for their owner. _Ugh, what dull taste. What am I, a banker?_

There was a stacked hanging bag of black leather shoes on the far right, but his vision blurred as he studied the number printed on the insoles. _These must all be mine._ Staggering to his dresser, he reached by instinct for a pair of black horn-rimmed glasses. They had been resting on a clean white cloth that he wiped the lenses with before dropping them on his nose. 

He sniffed himself. _Eew. A smelly banker._ Again without being clear on how he knew to do so, he headed for his bathroom. Once there, he unerringly set the water temperature for a shower, collected the tube of shampoo and block of soap he knew he would need, then set about cleaning himself. After shaving, then combing what little he had left of his hair, he slid one of the shirts off its paper-covered hanger. While the sleeves were the right length, the collar was much too big for his neck, as was the expanse of white cotton around his waist. The suit trousers, too, brushed the tops of his feet properly, but he estimated he had dropped a good six inches off his gut. He verified his suspicions when he found he was buckling himself in on the furthest hole in his belt and tucking the end through two wool loops. 

He picked up his wallet, then opened it. The first card he saw had "Department of Transportation" on the right of a photograph, so he tottered back to the bathroom to compare the face he saw under the plastic with the one in the mirror. _Must be me._ He considered the name for a moment, then decided he'd work out later whether or not it fit. _I wonder where I'm supposed to be now?_

After stepping, barefoot, outside his apartment he wandered the corridors of the building until he reached a door marked "Manager." Three raps, then he waited. A heavy-set woman, her hair in pink curlers, answered, so he held the driver's license up beside his face. "Excuse me, is this who I am?" 

The woman promptly collapsed in a heap of polyester and terrycloth.

\--o-0-o--

Wally's Diner  
Ithaca, New York  
Friday, 12:57 pm

Once Rosen and the three graduate students had finished their meals, they settled back to catch up. She looked around the table at her friends, feeling a twinge of nostalgia for her former life. The three men were all dressed in comfortable, if immensely shabby, jeans and T-shirts, while she was in one of her tan suits. Richie had just regaled them with tales of the party after his successful defense, Dale chiming in regularly to 'correct the record for posterity.' 

Arnie noticed a man hunched by himself in a distant booth. "Hey, that's Bill!" He bent over Rosen. "Did you bring your print-out?" 

She dug in her backpack. "And the gizmo. After what I've seen, evidence like this doesn't get left alone." 

Richie focused on her. "Evidence? What do you mean?" 

She shook her head. "Don't let on I said that, guys, but this is from that investigation where we found the bacterium. There were several missing persons at the end of that case. That's why I brought it to you." 

Arnie had bounded across the dining area to drag a scowling Bill Wilson back to the table. "Now, Andie comes back for a visit and you don't want to say hi? What's wrong with you, man?" 

Bill, despite his six foot height and muscular build, looked like a midget next to Arnie, who shook his arm. Kept slightly off-balance by the elbow held over his head, the red-haired man attempted a smile. "Hi, Andie. How's it going?" His eyes dropped to the black sample sticking out of the backpack, then he went rigid, his green eyes bulging. 

Rosen heard none of the jokes her friends made, fixed as she was on the slight shimmering in Bill's outline. _I wonder..._ She dove for her UV counter, which was tucked in one of the front pockets. 

Dale was hovering over her shoulder when she began punching buttons. "Hey, Andie, I thought you joined the FBI, not Starfleet. Where can I get one of those?" 

Focused on the spectral readings, Rosen shook her head in a vague response. The calibration signal had been normal, and the basement location for campus greasy spoon blocked any external UV. Yet, there was a definite signature on her screen. She looked up at a sudden exclamation from Arnie. 

"Hey, Bill, what's happening to you?" 

Before their eyes, the form was shifting, changing into a tall wooden rod, stretching to the grease-coated ceiling. 

Rosen was on her feet instantly. "Tip him over, now!" She grabbed the end that dropped into her hands. "Don't do this! Stay with us! We only want to help!" The rod reformed into the balding man she had last seen in a warehouse in Dover, Delaware. 

Arnie lifted him over his head. "Want to help you, never. Where's Bill? What did you do with him?" 

'Luther' shivered with fear. "Nothing! He's sleeping in his room! We never injure the originals when we take on their forms, we just hide them. A terrible evil it is to harm another sentient life form. Terrible!" 

Rosen tugged on Arnie's arm. "It's okay, put him down. I've seen this before." 

Dale snorted. "Jeez, Andie, now I know you're in Starfleet. Good thing we're down here alone and most of the regulars are gone, or we'd have a lot of explaining to do." His eyes began to bulge as well. "Jeez. Listen to me!"

Rosen knelt by the quaking man. "It's okay. Tell me why you're here."

The alien in Luther's form crossed his arms over his chest. "We just want to rescue the worthies, the ancients, and go. Didn't you listen? Don't you simians ever talk to each other?" 

Rosen nodded. "I know. We do. But I just wanted to be sure." She patted his shoulder, relieved it had the normal warmth of human flesh and wasn't cold like a cadaver, or a snake. "Just go. We won't harm you." 

The little man stood, ran through the loose circle formed around him, up the stairs, then was gone. 

Arnie rested a hand on each of Rosen's shoulders. "Andie, what have you been doing at the Bureau? Really?"

She waved them all back into the booth. "I wasn't sure if I could tell you, but now if I do, you must, *must* promise not to tell anyone." 

The three men nodded, Dale pushing his thick glasses back up his nose. 

Rosen rubbed her face. "When I've finished, I need to call my partner. I think he'd better come up here. Things are getting really strange."

\--o-0-o--

Safe House  
Saltville, Virginia  
Friday, 11:27 pm

A loud crash behind the house interrupted Skinner's questions and had both men staring at the rear wall of the room.

Disengaging the safety, Skinner slid his SIG out. "Stay here." 

Saunders flattened himself against the wall by the hinges of the door. "I know the drill." 

Once to the back of the house, Skinner fumbled with the keys, finally succeeding in releasing all the locks and disengaging the alarms. When he stepped outside, he nearly fell onto the hood of a parked black sedan. Two grey-suited men were exiting from either side. Dusting himself off, he checked both their faces in the halogen lights strung under the rafters. "Oh, it's you two. What happened?" 

The driver, tall and blond, shrugged. "The clutch slipped. We'll have the Bureau garage give it a once-over when we leave." 

The bald Director tucked his SIG away. "What's the new password?" 

The passenger, with reddish, curly hair and a slightly stockier build than his companion, nodded. "Yeah, we were updated, although I don't get it. Ramapithecus?" He frowned. "Who comes up with these?" 

Skinner held the door for them. "One of the secretaries, Cynthia. She's wants to major in Anthropology when she finishes her community college classes. She explained it all to me." 

The driver grinned. "Obviously, the poor kid's been spending too much time with Agent Scully. So, what *does* it mean?" 

Focused on locking the doors, Skinner shrugged. "According to her, that was one of the names for a primitive ape that was once thought to be an ancestor of modern humans. She said he was also known as Pithe..." Finished with the locks, he struggled with the word. "Pithecanthropus, that was it." Busy as he was with straightening the thick ring of keys before he dropped them in his pocket, Skinner failed to notice the slight clenching of jaws, the tremors that ran through each man when he articulated the full noun. "This way, gentlemen, if you please." 

The two followed behind him, their movements no longer fluid and relaxed, but stiffer, as if controlled. 

Feeling a slight pulse of air from behind him, the Director turned when he heard a quick whip-like sound, then all was blackness. 

The red-haired operative searched the prone figure, rolling him supine to confirm he carried no second firearm or something that could be pressed into service as a weapon. After he relieved Skinner of his SIG and keys, he nodded. "Let's go." The two stepped emotionlessly over his unconscious body. 

The blond man knocked once at the white bedroom door. "Ramapithecus." 

Saunders pulled it aside, one eyebrow arched in greeting. "Welcome, gentlemen." He studied their faces carefully, recognizing the reason for the slackened cheeks and blank eyes immediately. _It's a trap._ Before either could respond, he slammed the reinforced steel barrier closed, then locked it, racing for the chair to raise it over his head. 

The red-haired man's voice sounded in the space. "Open this door! We're federal agents!"

Saunders crouched by the hinged side of the opening again, then shifted over one door's width, listening to the repeated thumps of bullets striking the locks on the outside. _That's not going anywhere._ The deep popping sounds stopped, so he bent at the waist to force himself to breathe deeply, preparing for the coming conflict. When the thudding began anew, this time directed at the gypsum board just beyond the other side of the frame, he flattened himself against the wall again. _I knew they weren't giving up so easily._

First, the projectiles began throwing out tiny showers of dust, then whole chunks of drywall began falling away. When a large, fist-sized section flew across the room, Saunders hoisted the chair again, using one metal leg to reach across the door, then darken the room completely. _I wouldn't so lucky that they had expended all their ammunition._ Light from the hall reflected off a hacksaw blade slid through the hole, then metal screeched as it began biting into the reinforced steel frame. 

Saunders struggled to remember if there was a phone in the room. _Of course no telephone! I might be a dangerous criminal calling my buddies to give my location away._ When two hands bent the frame back, the door slipped free, so he raised his impromptu weapon again, poised. 

The blond agent entered first. "Hey, what - " Saunders brought the metal frame for the seat down on his head, stunning him long enough to make a grab for his gun. But the red-haired man began shooting immediately, bright white explosions sending the rounds into the darkness of the windowless room. Acquired SIG firing, Saunders dove behind the bed. He wriggled his way underneath the old frame, hoping the bedspread would conceal the wheels on each leg. 

Watching through a rend in the fabric, he blinked when his remaining opponent flicked the light switch. A pair of polished black shoes closed the distance from the doorway to the steel frame. Saunders grasped the bedframe up by the head. _Just a little more._ Two experimental shots were fired over the mattress, then the shoes stopped just inches from Saunders's bare toes. _Good Lord, what kind of people are they recruiting now?_

In a single, fluid action, Saunders jammed the edge of the bed against the agent's stocky legs. Then, he flipped the frame on end, keeping the mattress and box springs between him and his assailant long enough to reach around and squeeze off several shots. Red-hair fell backwards with a grunt, but Saunders continued firing, swinging his arm to insure both agents were stopped. 

Shaking from the adrenaline, Saunders staggered to the entranceway, where he collapsed, spent from the conflict.

\--o-0-o--

Lowenberg Residence  
south of Athinios, Santorini, Greece  
Saturday, August 9, 1997  
6:43 am

When he heard thumps and crashes outside, Max Lowenberg pulled himself awake. Tugging on his robe, he slipped into the hallway. 

The Pomeranian tucked under her arm, Margaret Scully glanced back apologetically. "I'm sorry, I'm just not used to moving around this house in the semi-darkness. I didn't mean to wake you." 

Max retied his paisley robe more securely. "And I'm not used to having other people in the house." He ran his hands through his white hair. "Old habits. If the little Fuzz needs to use the facilities, there's an enclosed rock garden behind the house that would do for an emergency." 

Scratching her charge between his perked-up ears, Margaret nodded. "That would be wonderful. I'm surprised he hasn't had an upset stomach from all the travel and odd water."

Max took her arm. "Not here. Since we're right on the cliffs, I've installed a desalination system to take water directly from the sea. You must understand that the rest of the island survives on water shipped in from the mainland. I've tried to convince the local leaders they need to implement something similar, but on a larger scale." As they walked, Max guided Margaret along the blue and red carpet runner set over red volcanic stone, out of the hall, past his study and the entertainment center. He stopped by a sliding door in the glass-enclosed dining room. "Not that it interests the locals, mind you. Anytime I bring it up with them, they remind me that they could all die in a volcanic explosion like their forbears and the effort would be for naught." 

Margaret chuckled. "No wonder you named this house what you did. Fox will never stop going on about it when he arrives." 

Max slid the glass aside before the dog wiggled free of Margaret's arms. "Let us hope that is soon, my dear, and let us hope it is for a happy reason." 

Her eyes tracking the little canine as he sniffed his way around the shrubs and herbs, Margaret crossed her arms. "I'm certain it will be, Max. And then he'll be able to enjoy the marvelous amenities you've installed here: the satellite TV with the Internet access, that wonderful surround sound system."

Max patted her on the shoulder. "Oh, those are available to all my guests. It was delightful to have the house full of Podhowitzes over the summer. It was so good for Caroline." 

Margaret peered into the pre-dawn grey until she saw the curled over tail behind a pyramid of rocks. She smiled when she heard the Pomeranian lapping the thin sheet of water that ran down the cobbles. "She's so different from when I first met her last February. So much more outgoing and self-assured, as I hope Fox will be one day, although leading that group of agents has done wonders for *his* self-esteem." 

Max stepped back when the little canine trotted boldly through the opening. "Success has a way of doing that for anyone. Let's hope nothing happens that will destroy his gains." He smiled when the dog looked up at the dark-haired woman. "I think we've accomplished our mission, wouldn't you say?" 

Tucking the Pomeranian back under her arm, Margaret nodded. "Well, back to the bedroom with you, Mister Fuzz. Then Mommie watches the sunrise over the mountains."

\--o-0-o--

Safe House  
Saltville, Virginia  
Saturday, 12:32 am

The first sense Walter Skinner felt returning was that of a bright light igniting a howl of agony, which faded to a dull throb in the back of his head. He raised one hand. _Ooh, no. Moving is definitely not a good idea. What is that noise? Why would someone be playing a base drum in here? Oh no, not a drum. Shots. Shots!_ The former Marine found his feet sooner than he expected he possibly could have. Feeling for his SIG, his finger hooked over one leather edge. _Oh, no. We've been had, Walter, but good._ One palm on the wall, he staggered to the room where his charge had been resting. 

Rounding a corner, he squinted at the rectangle of steel on the floor. _What is that?_ Blinking, the name of the object appeared, like an hypnotic suggestion, in his mind. _Hacksaw blade. Why?_ He gritted his teeth. _Oh, no._ Blinking again, he focused on a dark-skinned man lying in the doorway. "Saunders!" The voice sounded distant, even though he knew it was his own. "Saunders! Can you hear me?" 

The bearded African-American pushed himself into a sitting position, back against the hinged side of the door. His self-defensive instincts still on overdrive, he shoved the SIG in the bald man's face. 

Holding up both hands, Skinner shouted, "It's okay! You're safe! I'm not armed!"

The weapon clattered to the concrete, then Saunders raised both hands aloft. "I hear you. But they won't." He pointed weakly at the two men on the floor. "I doubt they'll hear anything ever again." 

Nodding, Skinner felt for a pulse, his fingers coming away from both of their necks slick and red. He returned to Saunders to help him to his feet. "What happened?" 

The two men retired to the living room, which was as sparely furnished as the bedroom, to settle on the single couch there. The color had faded from some dark blue to something approaching a lime green, but neither man noticed. 

Saunders rubbed his still-twitching hands together. "I think those replacements you'd found had been waylaid and reprogrammed by our mutual adversaries." He eyed the bald director. "What happened to you?" 

Skinner poked the back of his head, then grimaced. "Guess." 

Saunders nodded. "Hum."

The Director twisted carefully. "But we had checked both of those men over thoroughly for any mental instabilities just this morning. The Organization couldn't reprogram them that fast, could they?" 

Saunders shrugged. "I'm guessing they still have people in the Bureau, Skinner, so they'll exploit your tendency to follow standard FBI procedures whenever possible. They've used a combination of truth serum and neurosuppressants to build in hypnotically placed commands in the pool of men you'd be calling upon, to be activated by a trigger word. What did you say to them?" 

Skinner relayed the brief conversation to Saunders. 

Saunders nodded. "Likely as not they pulled them over on the way down here, hypnotized them, asked for the password, then programmed them to ask for the synonym, and used that. It would be the one word certain to be spoken, and the trigger would pass for casual conversation." 

Skinner rose. "It looks like I need to find another place for you yet." 

Saunders stood as well. "And more men." 

Skinner paused as he stepped into the kitchen, one hand on the frame. "Yes. It's time we bring Mulder and Scully back from the Great White North. Injured or not, we can use their help."

\--o-0-o--

Apartment Complex  
Laurel, MD  
Saturday, August 9, 1997  
7:41 am

'Ace' waved the two men outside her door into her living room. 'Charlie', seated in the armchair already, leaned around to nod a greeting. 

Lindhauer nodded back. "You've heard?" 

He sighed. "Saunders is still alive." 

McConnell settled on one of the oak dining set chairs 'Ace' had moved in. "And the two men we had programmed to do the job are dead." 

His arms crossed, Lindhauer stood in the center of the green oriental rug, looking down his long nose at the others. "So, do we try again? He can't spill all he knows and get off Scot-free. It would make us look as weak as the old men to the other Groups." 

McConnell sighed. "And this just at a time when we were beginning to flex our muscle in foreign affairs again." 

'Charlie' faced the red-haired man. "Oh, what do you mean?" 

McConnell rubbed his face under the nose-pads of his glasses. "The Egyptian Organization had attempted to move merchandise without our authorization." He shrugged. "We removed the officials involved in that decision."

'Charlie' frowned. _Why didn't these two consult us?_ "The Bureau will be doubly alert for another attack for quite some time. We'll have to wait until later." 

'Ace' half-sat on one of the rounded arms of the chair. "But, I do have a little bit of good news." 

The three faced her. 

She beamed. "The new software went on-line last night. We've transferred several thousand dollars to our accounts undetected." 

'Charlie' rubbed her shoulders vigorously. "That's great, Lisa."

McConnell smiled. "Our 'Ace' comes through again!" He reached over to shake her hand. "You wouldn't happen to have any fixes for this latest problem, would you?" 

She shrugged. "As a matter of fact, I do." 

Lindhauer crossed over to stand beside her, grasping her shoulder, then checking to see how 'Charlie' reacted. 

Predictably, the stout man bristled, but his only response was to grip the programmer's waist tightly. 

Lindhauer cocked one blond eyebrow. "So, are you going to tell us?" 

She pushed her brunette curls off her forehead. "Mulder and Scully want to expose the Group, to bring our supposed crimes against humanity to light." She met the three men's eyes in turn. "I say, let him." 

McConnell crossed his arms. "What? Are you serious?" 

She clapped her hands, once. "Absolutely. But in a situation where they're bound to fail. This latest twist with the old informant has handed it to us, ready-made." She licked her lips. "This is what I propose..."

\--o-0-o--

Queen's Hospital  
Inuvik, Northwest Territories, Canada  
Saturday, 5:21 am

Mulder opened the door to their shared hospital room with a sigh. _Oh, Scully._ The two phones calls he had just taken at the nurses' station meant that their short stay here was finished. _It's only been a week._ The thought was cold comfort, at best. 

He stood at the foot of Scully's hospital bed, watching the slow rise and fall of her chest as she slept. Unthinkingly, he rubbed the ribs on his own side that he knew were broken on hers. _Those were the worst._ Any other bone could be encased in plaster, swathed by supports, until it was whole, but ribs had to be free to flex with each breath a body took. _At least she was past the shivering stage._ He knew how much she hated to have her precious self-control stolen by anything, a battered frame no exception. _Or excuse._

He walked to stand by her head, studying her visage, thinking back to when he had first met her in their old basement office. She was so young then, her face so smooth. Now, there were tiny lines radiating from the corners of her mouth, creases in her cheeks. _When did those first appear?_ He shook his head. _My fault, all my fault._ He knew if she awoke to catch him worrying about her, those green-blue eyes would sparkle, her nose would tip up slightly. She would pull him out of his melancholy by reminding him that if they weren't killed in the line of duty, they'd probably still be partners, well past retirement. 

She'd teased him once about delivering reports in wheelchairs. _Little do you know, Scully, that exactly what I want for you, a happy, healthy old age after a productive, successful career at the Bureau. But to have that, you should spend the rest of your life as far away from one Fox Mulder as you possibly can. And that's the last place one Fox Mulder, G-man, wants you to be._

Casting about for a jest to ease the news, he dropped his hand to her shoulder. He waited while her head rocked from side to side, the auburn strands twisting and writhing, then her eyelids fluttered upwards. He was pondering his first statement when his partner, the logical practical scientist he never wanted to be without, beat him to it. 

Scully eased herself upright. "What is it, Mulder? What's happened?" 

Mulder shifted the metal chair in the room to face her and sat. "Well, I have good news and bad news. Which do you..."

She arched one auburn brow. "Bad." 

He shook his head. "Not this time. The good news is that Nichols and Rosen have picked up the trail of the shape-shifters. Rosen was in Ithaca - " 

Scully raised the other brow. "Ithaca?" 

Mulder attempted a shrug. "It seems our Doctor Curie is married. Nichols claimed his privileges as senior partner to tell her it would be all right to make a conjugal visit on her way back." 

Scully tipped her head. "Married? You mean to a man?" 

Mulder's head was moving from side to side.

Scully straightened. "A woman?" 

The dark head bobbed. "Anyway, she spotted one of the shape-shifters passing himself off as a graduate student working in the nanotechnology lab there." 

Scully's lips formed into an O. "Probably attempting to replace some part for their ship or some system they want to use here on earth." 

Mulder waved his unbound hand. "Whatever. She called Nichols, so they and Langly are tracking them." He shifted to rest his good side against the back of the chair. "Now, the bad news."

She nodded encouragement. 

He continued. "Skinner called after Nichols. He wants us to come back as soon as we are able. I told him that depends on you." He waved at her side. "A long plane trip will be rough right now." 

Scully swung her legs over the side of the mattress. "I can be ready to go by the time of the next flight out of here." She slid her feet to the floor. "Of all the vacation spots you've chosen for me, Mulder..."

One corner of his mouth twitched at her gentle tease. 

"I must say, I prefer Mexico in September to Canada in August." She pushed one fist against her hip. "What's wrong?" 

Standing, he gazed down at her, appreciating, once again, the mettle of the woman he worked with. "Saunders has been charged with the murder of two Federal Agents." 

A quick twitch of her lips was all the surprise she showed. "Tell me more." 

He nodded. "There was a bomb scare..."

\--o-0-o--

End - Zurvan - Chapter I - New Directions


	2. The Plains of Edom

\-----o--------------------------------------------o----- 

Chapter II - The Plains of Edom 

\-----o--------------------------------------------o----- 

Hear, O Kings! Give ear, O princes!   
I to the Lord will sing my song,   
my hymn to the Lord, the God of Israel. 

O Lord, when you went out from Seir,   
when you marched from the field of Edom,   
The earth quaked and the heavens were shaken,   
while the clouds sent down showers. 

Mountains trembled   
in the presence of the Lord, the One of Sinai,   
in the presence of the Lord, the God of Israel. 

Gone was freedom beyond the walls,   
gone indeed from Israel,   
When I, Deborah, rose,   
when I rose, a mother in Israel. 

Excerpted from "The Song of Deborah"  
(Judges 5: 3-5, 7)

\-----o---------------------------------------------o----- 

Rowhouse   
Capital Hill Washington, DC   
Saturday, August 9, 1997  
7:13 pm 

Lindhauer checked his watch. _Where is she? I hope she hasn't..._ He waved at the petite brunette rushing up the street from the Metro. "Hey, angel, what kept you?" 

She shifted her books from one arm to the other. "Sorry. I was taking a call from one of my bosses' boss. You know, the bald Marine?" 

The lean, angular man pulled her into his arms. "Ah, let's not talk about that. You registered yet?" 

All wide-eyed eagerness, she nodded. "My boss said sure. He's a good guy, for all his strange ideas. I really *am* not all that busy at the Bureau." 

Wrapping one arm around her waist, he guided her up onto his porch, where they settled into one of the wicker couches. "It's almost a waste of the taxpayer's dollar to have you there, but politics is politics." 

She burrowed under his arm. "Speaking of that, when do I get tickets for the Senate balcony? You know my Mom's dying to see Congress in operation." 

A dark look crossed his face, turning his eyes hard momentarily. "Oh, soon, soon. I thought they were in the middle of the corn harvest back in Iowa." 

She shook her head. "No, silly, I told you, they were planting soybeans this year. That's later than corn." 

He grinned down at her. _I only have to put up with all this long enough to get the information I need on them. Then I can get rid of her. It was too much work stealing her away from that hayseed boyfriend of hers._ "Oh, right. You know us New York boys. We'd probably hook a milking machine to a stallion and wonder why nothing was coming out." 

Covering her mouth with one hand, she giggled. "Oh, Gil, that's silly." Standing, she tugged on his arm. "Okay, where to tonight?" 

He shook his head. "No place, Cynthia. I've fixed dinner here." 

She dropped onto his lap, kissing his nose impulsively. "Here?" 

He smiled again. "Right here." He waved over his shoulder toward the dining room. "In there, actually. You ready?" 

She nodded, giggling again when he carried her in through the open front door. 

On the corner, a grey-suited man covered the tip of a Morley as he lit it. Taking a deep drag, he nodded to himself. _Well, well. This could be useful information indeed. I wonder if the others know who their leader's latest inamorata is?_ Stepping onto the pavement, he waved carelessly at a honking Mercedes before unlocking his own black sedan. _Mister Lindhauer, you may have just handed me the glory of your overthrow._

\--o-0-o--

Regional Airport  
Ithaca, New York  
Saturday, 9:24 pm

Andrea Rosen pushed her way through the crowd huddled by the same gate where she had arrived only a few days earlier. Through the window, she had caught a glimpse of her partner, who was shuffling across the tarmac, his head bent. _It mustn't have gone well._ She waved when he entered. 

An attempt to force a smile for his partner's sake resulted in a slight cant to his mustache. "Hey, Ros." 

Stepping around the final obstacle between them, a crying girl, beet-faced against her crouching mother, Rosen looked her partner in the eye. "Sorry to pull you up here on such short notice, Nic." 

Shifting his suit-bag from his left to his right hand, Nichols shrugged. "No problem. It's not like I have much keeping me in DC, anyway." 

She nodded, silently extending her sympathy before she spoke. "Oh, so you haven't heard?" 

As they walked, he glanced over at her. "Heard what?" 

She sighed. "Mulder called. There was an attempt on the informant's life. Apparently the two new agents Skinner found to assist after you left were either coerced or brainwashed. The informant's been charged with their murder." 

He regarded her somberly. "This is more serious than I thought, Ros. We'll need to check this business with the aliens out, then high-tail it back to DC. With Mulder and Scully in the shape they are, they can't take on much heavy-duty investigating right now." 

As they exited, she pointed to the rental parking lot. "Sorry, it's the best I could do. The station wagon blew a cylinder, so I've picked a compact for Cary and her Mom to use as long as they need it."

Once they had pulled out into traffic, the electrical system winked out momentarily in the red Hundai. Rosen muttered angrily about cheap technology. 

Much relieved to have the distraction, Nichols grinned. "When it rains it pours. You want to take it back?"

Nodding, she pulled into the nearest airport exit. "I can't leave Cary and her Mom stranded. Neither has a lick of mechanical sense whatsoever." Her lips set in a tight line. 

The balding Montanan attempted a diversion. "Did Mulder give you any details?" 

She shook her head. "He doesn't have many. Skinner was knocked out before the attack happened. Apparently this Saunders guy is good at taking care of himself. When the dust settled, he had one of their guns, they were members of the formerly living, and, you know the rest." She looked over at her partner, who was wedged into the passenger seat. "What kind of Organization are we going up against here?" 

He chewed his mustache. "Whatever it is, it has more resources than any of the drug groups I've encountered. We'll have to start checking in with each other more frequently until things settle down." 

She nodded. "Likely as not, they'll come after us if it suits their purposes. I thought just working these regular cases was bad enough. But this, it's like it's World War Three or something." 

He studied her face. "And only we know about it." He pointed to an entrance. "You'll need to turn there." 

Her hands flew over the wheel. "Thanks. Almost missed it."

\--o-0-o--

Student Apartment  
Ithaca, New York  
Saturday, 11:43 pm

From his seat on the sofa, Bill Wilson looked up when the door opened. His throat was sucked dry, his tongue felt like a block of frayed wood, scraping the roof of his mouth. If anything, this was the worst hangover imaginable. His buddy, Arnie, was babbling about aliens and shape-shifting and Andie, now an FBI Agent, until his head was swimming. That same woman was standing over him, accompanied by a stocky man, about her height, who looked like he belonged on the back of a horse, not toting a SIG and a cell phone. 

Rosen touched his shoulder. "Bill, this is my partner, Philip Nichols. We'd like to ask you some questions." 

Bill squinted up at her. "Andie, please, do we have to do this now?" 

She nodded. "Other lives may be at stake, Bill." Crouching in front of him, she smirked. "Besides, I've seen you ace exams after a week of partying in the Catskills."

Arnie bounced in from the kitchen, carrying a glass of water and two white tablets. "She's gotcha there!" He nodded a greeting to Nichols as he passed the older man. "So, you're Andie's urban cowboy?" 

As he looked down at the top of his partner's brown curls, the thought set Nichols' mustache twitching. "On the way back to DC, we *talk*, Ros." 

She grinned up at him, then winked. "Don't worry. These guys'll never tell about the toupee." 

Arnie tugged experimentally from his superior vantage point. "She's right. It all feels real." 

Nichols passed his fingers over his skull. "Hey! It is..." He suddenly snorted, then let loose with his gravelly laugh, something between a sneeze and a bark. _She's trying to cheer me up._ "Oh, I get it. Thanks." He hadn't expected his partner to pick up his mood swings so easily. Then he also noted that their witness was more composed, more ready to answer the difficult questions they needed to put to him. He settled beside the rheumy-eyed graduate student. 

Still crouching, Rosen turned her attention to the man before her, rubbing his wrist gently. "Bill, if you need to stop, or get confused, we can wait. But we *do* need your help." 

Nichols nodded. "What's the last thing you remember, Son?" 

Bill looked over at him. "Well, I returned home very late from working on my new thesis ideas." He faced Rosen. "I'd like to try..."

She shook her head. "Please, I'm here as an agent, Bill. If we start, you know how long we'll argue."

He rubbed his eyes. "Sure, okay, it was dark."

Nichols flipped open his notepad. "Which day was this?" 

Bill frowned. "Day? Tuesday, the fifth." 

Rosen glanced at her partner. "It's the right time frame."

Arnie bent over her, resting his hands on his knees. "Time frame?" 

She looked up. "We think we encountered that 'thing' up in the Arctic." 

Arnie tipped his head. "It took commercial transportation?" 

Nichols grunted. "Long story, but yeah, we're pretty sure it did."

Arnie walked to the back of the room to lean against a wall. "Oh. Okay."

Bill blinked. "Hey, what was it?" 

Rosen blushed slightly. "You'll laugh." 

The graduate student rubbed his temples. "Not the way I feel." 

Nichols cleared his throat. "Maybe, Ros..." 

She nodded. "Okay. Right. We'll ask the questions, Bill. Arnie will fill you in after we go. Do you know about what time of day you arrived home?" 

Squinting, Bill sighed. "It was just a little before midnight. I'd wanted to return to my place to call my folks back in Fresno, and I wanted to be certain it was late enough that they would be home. The next thing I knew, the phone was ringing off the hook." He rolled his eyes toward Arnie. "*He* was trying to reach me to say you guys were on the way over." 

After scribbling a few lines, Nichols queried, "You had the chance to note if anything was stolen?" 

Bill frowned. "Let me check." After stumbling around his apartment, tossing aside the dirty laundry and shifting the old beer cans stashed in the corners, he returned, deeply concerned. "Yeah. Yeah, they did. I had some information on the other nanotechnology facilities in Europe and Japan." He eyed Rosen, now seated on his right, then Nichols.

The older agent shrugged. "Go ahead and talk technical, Son, if it helps. Doctor Rosen and the other woman in our section regularly sling Heisenberg and Helmholtz at me. If I'm not utterly brain-dead after that, they start in with the differential equations." 

Relaxing slightly, Bill nodded. "It's not that. It's just that some of the information offered to me was somewhat restricted, relating to future upgrades and suggested new improvements in the hardware. I was, well, looking around." His voice dropped to a whisper as he stared at the floor, "Looking for someplace else to go."

Rosen shifted on the sofa, patting her friend on the shoulder. "That's exactly what our visitors would be interested in." She walked over to Arnie. "Did 'Bill' spend an inordinate about of time alone this past week?" 

Arnie waved both long arms. "As much as usual. You know what a night owl he is, so none of us thought much about it." One eyebrow twitched. "Although, *that* Bill was a lot neater." He leaned over his friend's shoulder. "We thought he had turned over a new leaf since, well,..."

As she returned to her seat by Bill, Rosen nodded. "Okay. Neater, hunh? Changes in personal habits seem to be a clue when someone has been replaced." 

Nichols cleared his throat, signaling his partner that the interview should be brought to an conclusion. 

She rose. "Guys, thanks for everything." She extended her hand to the black-haired man. "Bill, good luck. You'll make it, you know, you're good. If you think of anything else," she requested, leaning toward him conspiratorially, "or if you discover any interesting notes your replacement left behind, give me a call." She dropped a card in his T-shirt pocket, then patted his chest. 

After exchanging farewells, the agents were descending the driveway when Arnie called after them from his place by Bill's side, "Andie, how do you think Bill should write his acknowledgements: Thanks to help from unnamed space aliens?" 

Without breaking stride, she called back over her shoulder, "Hey, it worked for Blake!" 

Nichols looked up from the passenger side of the car. "Blake?" 

She grinned. "The poet." 

Nodding, he settled in. "So, you ready to go?" 

Turning the key in the ignition, she looked back over her shoulder. "After I say goodbye to Cary." 

Nichols sobered. "Sorry to pull you away like this." 

She shifted gears to send their vehicle forward. "Duty calls. Besides, as much as I love Cary, her Mom is getting to be a real trial." 

Nichols smoothed his lap belt. "Ah, some things never change."

She cocked an eyebrow at him. "Hum?"

He shrugged. "In-laws." 

Nodding, she sent him one quick glance before pulling onto the main thoroughfare from the apartment parking lot. _He'll need to talk, but on the plane, not here._

\--o-0-o--

Lowenberg Residence  
Santorini, Greece  
Sunday, August 10, 1997  
5:27 am

Still in his rumpled nightshirt, Max Lowenberg sat alone in his living room, staring at the faded black and white photograph he was cradling gently in his hands. A noise in the doorway brought his attention to the present, so he turned. 

Margaret Scully had paused there, looking pensive. "It's hard to let go of them, no matter how long they've been gone. No matter how happy you are now." 

Max stood the frame back up on the end table, which was a cross-section of a great trunk of oak, thickly varnished, supported by three plain black legs. Since the cardboard prop on the back rested on a knot, the image canted slightly as Margaret focused on it. 

She shifted the frame a fraction of an inch so it would stand level. "I'm sorry, I thought this was Thea." She studied the group of uniformed men, who were posing proudly while standing on a vast stone plaza. "I don't recognize anyone." She bit her lip, afraid these were more Holocaust victims.

He tapped the glass cover above the head of an older soldier in the back, his face partially obscured by a rifle. "Me."

She tipped the frame to illuminate the faded image more evenly. "Oh." She brushed her thumb over a dome in the background. "That looks like the Dome of the Rock." 

He blew out a slow breath. "It is. The photo is from the liberation of Jerusalem during the Six Days War. I was asked to join the regiment that would retake that area." He brushed his fingers along the tattooed numbers on his arm. "With these, they wanted the symbolism."

Margaret nodded. "We were moving that week. I never realized that there was fighting on the plaza itself." Standing the frame on the table again, she sat, then folded her hands in her lap.

Max blinked. "Oh, most Gentiles don't. It was the strangest feeling, rushing around with rifles on the holiest place on earth. All I could think of were the high priests, stepping into the Devir with a rope around their ankles, so if they were overcome by the Indwelling, they could be dragged out to safety without others entering." He hesitated for a moment to hum and clear his throat. "Well, here we all were, some no more than sixteen, and none of us priests, stepping all over wherever it might have been." He sighed. 

Margaret shifted, her sleep-fogged brain stuck on his first words. "Gentiles?" She touched the gold crucifix she wore. "You mean me?" 

Max forced a smile. _No deep discussions of religion, not now._ "Margaret, using your full name is so formal. I know Caroline prefers that I do so with her, but if you wish otherwise, I'd be more than willing to oblige." 

She returned the expression softly. "Bill always called me Maggie, but use whatever you feel comfortable with." 

Max nodded. "I had a great-aunt Margaret I was very fond of. She preferred Maudie." He spread his hands. "I couldn't begin to say why." 

Margaret let loose a small laugh. "Then Maudie it is. I'm sorry, I don't think of Gentile as a modern word." 

He shrugged. "Well, no offense meant, Maudie, but you aren't Jewish." 

She settled against the back cushions. "And, I'm afraid, neither is Fox." 

Max shifted into a more comfortable position as well. "Don't be too hard on him. He's like many young people his age, not ready to think about deeper issues in his life, so he ignores them. But we all come back to our roots eventually." He propped his head up on one hand. "When I was younger, I used to be like him."

Margaret twisted to face him. "Oh?" 

Max nodded. "Certainly. Very career-oriented. There were several members of my family who had converted to Catholicism in Vienna. One had to, to advance in the bureaucracy." His eyes darkened. "But the National Socialists changed all that. No matter what you were on paper, only your ancestry counted." 

Margaret touched his hand. "I'm sorry. Dana's loaned me some books. I never knew it was so horrible. We were never told." 

Max waved both hands, then balanced his forearms on his knees. "I know. There were conspiracies of silence about many things. The National Socialists were able to use many old prejudices to their own ends." 

Margaret studied the pale stubble on his face for a moment. "Do you ever wish..." She continued after she bit her lip nervously, "I mean, did you ever write down what you saw in the camps?" 

He shook his head. "What would I say now that would make anyone who wasn't there understand? For those who were there and survived, nothing more needs be said."

Thinking of the devastation in Caroline's family, Margaret pressed her palms together. "Was your Aunt Maudie lost in the camps as well?"

Max went absolutely still, speaking with a conviction born from endless mental repetition. "All the Lowenbergs in my family were taken away. I am the only survivor."

A chill ran up Margaret's spine. "I'm so sorry. You must hate them for what they did."

He caught the dark-haired woman's eyes in a penetrating gaze, crystalline in its intensity. "And what good is hate, Maudie? Whether one hated the Germans, or failed to believe this could possibly be happening, like Caroline's father Jacob, one still died." He clasped her hand momentarily. "But, out of all that terror, we were able to unite long enough to reclaim Palestine." 

Margaret leaned toward him. "That's what's had you up this early?" 

Max raised his chin, then let it fall. "Hum. It's not something I can discuss with Caroline. She's almost as distant from her own faith as her son." He rubbed his hands together. "I've always leaned more toward the teachings of Maimonides myself."

Margaret frowned. _This is too deep for me._ "Are you looking forward to returning to Israel after all these years?" 

He faced her. "Oh, I've been back, several times, since the war. Thea and I attended a gala cellebration welcoming our art collection to the Museum in Haifa, and I've been there on business. Early on, I felt comfortable visiting. But now, with Rabin's assassination, then all these problems with the peace, I don't know. I don't know if I'll be able to find the Zion I fought for." 

Margaret clasped her hands in her lap. "In confirmation classes, we're always taught, well, horrible things, actually, that the Jews lost Israel to the Christians through greed." 

Max looked over at her. "That's partially true." He smiled wanly. "There's so much half-truth made to serve religious or political aims when it comes to the Holy Land. The Romans, for all we revile them, didn't take the first revolt as an excuse to slaughter every Jew they encountered. It took repeated conflicts before they emptied Israel and rebuilt Jerusalem as a Roman City." 

Margaret frowned. "What?" 

Max cocked one white brow. "Aelia Capitolina. Hadrian went so far as to have statues of himself and Antoninus Pius erected on the site of the Holy of Holies." 

She covered her mouth with her hand. "I knew about the pig sacrifice and the Maccabees, but that, I never knew."

Max crossed his arms. "Oh, things just went downhill from there. The Muslims were actually better than the Christians when it came to overlordship of Palestine, which is what makes these modern conflicts seem so, *ludicrous*." He cocked his head. "Did those books of Dana's tell you anything about the First Crusade?" 

Wide-eyed, Margaret nodded. "I was so ashamed, Max. All that killing for no reason! That the Pope sanctioned it all. And then during the Holocaust..." 

He smiled wanly again. "Don't be so hard on the Popes. It's what happens when religion and politics are too closely intertwined. Take Israel today. Despite repeated offers, I've steered clear of joining any of the parties there because it's so, so, *heated*. Netanyahu is a well-educated, literate man, well-versed in all the historical conflicts plaguing the region. Yet, to win the election under a parliamentary system, he has made alliances with many smaller, very conservative factions who want to stamp their interpretation of the Law on every Jew. In many cases, it ties his hands."

Margaret sighed. "I don't understand how that would even work, Max. Even in Catholicism, the Bishops don't always agree with the Pope in everything." 

He grasped his knees, rubbing the flannel of his nightshirt draped there. "In our faith, there is no schism, as there is between Catholic and Protestant, Orthodox and Roman. There are only informal agreements to disagree. Something like the issue of 'who is a Jew,' and 'what is a legitimate Jewish marriage,' well, those cut to the core of every believer." He glanced back into the darkness, seeking his sleeping wife with his eyes. "According to the strict interpretation of the Israeli Supreme Court, Caroline and I are living together not with the benefit of marriage. We didn't apply to them to have our wedding sanctioned." 

Margaret clenched her fists. "Why, just because of that?"

He smiled gently. "But these things can change. Remember, in Biblical times, there were no limits on the number of wives a man could have. See what a little bit of historical perspective buys you, Maudie? It makes it difficult to see things in black and white, angels and demons."

"Max?" The voice was Caroline's, who stood, drowsing, in the doorway. "Are you well?" 

The pair looked over the back of the sofa. 

Max rose, draping his arm over his wife's shoulders. "Oh, just discussing the way of the world." He checked his watch. "I think it's time for two lovely ladies to have breakfast, don't you?" 

Margaret nodded. _But there's still so much I want to know._

\--o-0-o--

Dulles International Airport  
Reston, Virginia  
Sunday, 12:34 pm

Andrea Rosen waved to the pair of agents moving slowly down the walkway. "Mulder! Scully!" 

The tall agent spotted them first, sending her a quick grin. "Hey! We didn't expect a welcoming committee. What's up?" 

Nichols joined them, sympathetically studying the auburn-haired woman's lined face. "I hope you both checked your bags through."

She nodded. "Of course. My partner sweet-talked the stewards into giving us a couple of free rows to ourselves." She let out a grunt, steeling her face to keep from grimacing. 

"Scully, are you okay?" Three voices exclaimed.

She tried a small, shared joke. "Three part harmony." She glanced over at Mulder when he cupped her elbow in his hand. "I'm fine." 

He stared down at her worriedly, a growl of frustration escaping from his chest, but he kept silent. 

Nichols cleared his throat. "I have my wife's-" A shadow crossed his face. "-my ex-wife's van here, so you two won't be cramped in a car. Let's go." 

Scully looked to Rosen. "What did you find out in Ithaca?"

She bent over the pathologist. "The shape-shifters don't kill the people they replace. They just induce a coma-like sleep." 

Scully arched one brow. "Although that fits with the philosophy regarding sentient life-forms they expounded to us, it makes me wonder how one of them was able to pose as a dead woman for so long." She found herself suppressing a smirk as she looked up at her partner's face.

Mulder shrugged. "Who reads the obituary page? There was to be no service, according to the clipping. Aurora had always talked about having herself frozen, just like her clients. But, if that Consortium member wakes up like Rosen's classmate did, it'll be interesting, to say the least."

Since the four had formed into a tight group, Nichols found he was speaking to Mulder's shoulder. "They seemed most curious about how far our nanotechnology had advanced. The information the one took related to other facilities around the world."

Bound by the cast, Mulder spoke without turning. "So, what are they doing? Looking to build another ship?" 

Rosen shook her head. "With as far as we have to go in materials development? I doubt it. I'd guess whatever specific knowledge they'd need to duplicate that vessel we saw destroyed was stored on computers inside." 

Scully nodded. "They're trying to develop a means of passing among us undetected." 

Mulder's eyes focused on the far glass wall, through which he could view the Virginia countryside. "Or preparing defensive weapons. Whatever. We'll let you two handle the aliens. We'll need to meet with Skinner about Saunders and the upcoming trial." 

Nichols nodded. "I thought you'd see it that way. Langly wants in on the alien chase." 

Scully cocked an eyebrow at her partner. "I don't see why not." 

Mulder grinned, remembering an earlier argument. "Yeah, they're free to do as they wish. We wouldn't be here without them, right, Doctor?" 

A faint smile on her lips, she nodded.

\--o-0-o--

Secure House  
Wheeling, West Virginia  
Sunday, 2:57 pm

Walter Skinner opened the door for his two agents, glaring at Mulder pointedly when the dark-haired man passed him. "Glad to see you made it back safe." He punched the ultimate word heatedly. 

Mulder winced at the not-so-subtle message. 

Scully, sensing her partner's discomfort, spoke quickly. "How are *you*, Sir?" 

Skinner, his back to them as he preceded them down the hallway, ignored the covert challenge. "I've been struck on the head before, Agent Scully. No permanent damage. Saunders has engaged someone he trusts for his defense, claiming that you might know him, Agent Mulder." 

Suppressing bad memories from Behavioral Sciences, Mulder stiffened. "Oh?" 

Skinner pushed the keys on a numeric lock before he offered, "A Jarred Stone?" Holding the door, he eyed his agent. "Ring a bell?" 

Mulder grinned broadly. "Yeah, it does." 

Scully checked his face. "You're not reacting as if he were one of the bad guys, Mulder. That's not like you." 

Mulder guided her into the secured hallway ahead of him, pressing his hand against her back gently to feel the tension in her spine. _You should be in bed, Scully._ "He isn't. Jarred's one of the few lawyers I have respect for." 

Scully nodded. _He used his first name. We'll talk later._ "Oh? What should I expect?" 

Skinner keyed in a different combination, then stepped back. "You'll see." 

Scully entered ahead of the two agents, nodded to X, who was standing, arms crossed, in the corner, then turned to the new man in the room, who was also upright. She tipped her head back to meet his eyes, as she was nearly always forced to do. Her aimed gaze fell on Stone's tie tack, a silver disk with depressions that looked like craters. _Ah. I think I see the attachment here._ She tipped her head further, taking in the long jaw covered with a close-cropped, silvering beard, the thin nose, the unruly greying curls, with their original brown streaking through in sections. What caught her attention, though, were the sparkling hazel eyes, greener than her partner's, with a ring of blue around the pupil. 

But, like her partner, Stone made no attempt to disguise his amusement at her appraisal. "And you must be the Dana Scully I've heard so much about." The sentence rolled out in slow motion, her first name elongated into three syllables, Dah-ee-nah. He shook her hand, then bent, raising the fingers to just beneath his lips in an archaic gesture of chivalry. 

Scully bowed her head, tucking herself into a curtsey that she hoped would hide the shudder running through her. 

Mulder's hand was under her arm instantly. "Scully?" 

Nodding her thanks, she settled into one of the wooden chairs.

Stone caught the interchange. "Sorry you're feelin' poorly, Ma'am." He spied the ridges from the cast on Mulder's torso when his shirt pulled tight across his chest. "Ah, Mulder, I wish the circumstances were more auspicious..." The agent's name was drawn into three syllables as well, a Muh-hul-dah spoken in a soft bass. 

The dark-haired man extended his free arm toward the attorney. "So do I, Jarred. You've been well?" 

The attorney held up his left hand, fingers spread, waggling the third one with the broad gold band. "I've found a sweet southern belle, the way you always said I should." He settled into one of the slat-backed oak chairs across from Scully. "I've always told your partner he needs a good woman to look after that poet's soul of his." 

Scully lifted one corner of her mouth. "Until he finds her, I seem to have been given the job of pinch-hitting." She straightened. "So, how do you know our Mister Saunders?" 

X stalked back to the table, taking a seat at the opposite end from Skinner, but closest to Mulder, who was on Scully's right. "I'd appreciate you not talking about me as if I weren't here."

Jarred's long face drew up into a broad grin. "Of course. According to what Tyrell has told me, this should be a simple case of self-defense, but what makes it difficult are the circumstances under which the attack took place." 

Skinner nodded. "We suspect the charges stem from a deeper, and much darker, agenda." 

Jarred leaned back, clunking one over-sized suede-encased foot on the table, then locking the other firmly on top of it. "Ahh'm all eahs, laee-dy and gee-hntlemaee-hn." He chuckled at the quick stares of surprise the sudden deepening of his accent elicited.

\--o-0-o--

Mulder fell silent, looking to Scully for confirmation.

Stone turned to her as well. "And you believe all this, Dana?" 

She arched one brow. "Scully will do fine, Stone." 

He inclined his head once. 

She began assembling her notes on the table. "While I would hesitate to use the word *believe*," she explained, glancing at her partner, her green-blue eyes glinting as they shared the private joke, "I certainly accept as true the overwhelming body of evidence in support of our conclusions." 

Mulder smirked. "Jarred, you'll learn to decode the Doctor soon enough. The answer is, *yes*." 

Stone faced Saunders. "How much of this can we use in your defense?"

The bearded African-American glared at Mulder before he replied. "None of it." 

Skinner crossed his arms. "But, all this can be verified..."

Saunders shook his head. "What I mean, is that all this will be dragged out of Mulder by the Prosecution, purely to discredit him, and all of you, as witnesses."

Scully looked to her partner. "Why?" 

Stone dropped his feet to the floor. "My good friend here is the weakest link in the chain. You, Scully," he explained, the name drawling out in four syllables, "could speak from the witness box and convince a jury of the essential correctness of your testimony just by your sense of justice alone." He pointed to each man as he referred to him. "Director Skinner, Tyrell, the same. But Mulder, well, he has the mannerisms of someone looking to be told 'Good answer, Son,' and that never sits well with juries." He interlaced his fingers on the table. "I always dreaded having to put him on the stand when we were seeking convictions with Patterson." 

Scully cocked an eyebrow at her partner. 

Hoping his partner now understood why he appreciated the tall lawyer, he attempted a shrug, but the cast prevented it.

She nodded once before turning back to Stone. "So, since you've played both sides of the fence, how do you suggest this case proceed?" 

Stone yawned. "Well, if we could keep testimony to just the incidents surrounding the attacks, we'll have the jury seeing this for what it was, self-defense. I'll move to strike any witnesses related to this secret government of yours as irrelevant. But, from these sessions with Saunders, I suggest you folks work on making sure you can verify your version of events. That way the Prosecution can't dismiss you all as a bunch of wacko civil servants with a bent sense of justice." 

Saunders nodded his consent. "I'll be ready whenever you are." 

Scully rubbed her face. "What about the dead Agent's bodies? Have they been autopsied yet?" 

Skinner walked around to stand behind her. "Yes. There was evidence of sodium pentothal, as well as several mind-altering substances the lab is still categorizing, in their kidneys." 

She shifted carefully, looking up at her superior. "Their kidneys? As if it was in the process of being flushed from their systems, you mean." 

Saunders snorted. "I'm surprised your flunkies even found that." 

Skinner glared back. "Agent Pendrell has been remarkably resourceful in his analyses. If this were a normal Bureau case, he would certainly have earned a commendation from me for his efforts." The bald Director eyed Mulder meaningfully.

The dark-haired agent focused pointedly on his partner, who had shivered one too many times for him to ignore. "Scully? You okay?"

She waved off his concern, letting one slight smile acknowledge her gratitude for it, before she looked back up at the Assistant Director. "Sir? May I ask the disposition of the bodies? The physical evidence must be secured or..."

Skinner nodded. "We'll lose it. I'm perfectly well aware of that. The corpses and evidence are all downstairs in the morgue that was built into this site a few years ago." He rested one hand on her shoulder carefully. "If you're thinking about checking it over right now, forget it, Agent Scully. You and Agent Mulder have sustained serious injuries too short a time ago to keep yourselves up any longer. They'll be there in the morning-" He rolled his eyes. "-*later* in the morning for you to examine." 

"But Sir," she persisted, standing for emphasis, "how are they being preserved? Organ tissues decay rapidly, and any delay may be prejudicial to our case." She clenched her fists. "I'm fine. This is critical." She waved at her partner. "I'll have Agent Mulder stay with me, or any of the other agents on duty at this facility that you choose, in case of any problems."

All four turned as several claps sounded in the room. 

Saunders' features had pulled into a near-snarl. "Brava, Agent Scully. You've proven you're as tough as all the boys, so run down there right now and miss something in your fatigue." He stood. "Spare me the histrionics. I'm going to bed." He pulled the heavy security door open, frustrated that he would be kept from punctuating his remarks with an emphatic slam by the thick seals.

Stone rose, adding in a dry afterthought, "Well, Agent Scully, my momma would wash my mouth out with soap for speaking to a lady the way Tyrell did just now, but he's caught the jist of it. You *and* my old friend Mulder look like you're both runnin' on fumes and the last gas station was a good fifty miles back a-piece."

After he left, Mulder focused down on her. "He's right, you know. We can't do much more, either of us." 

Skinner nodded. "We have rooms for both of you, just across the hall from Stone and myself. Wheeling may have great scenic overviews, but no hotels close by." He held out his arm. "After you." 

As Mulder passed his AD, he shot him a look of sincere gratitude.

\--o-0-o--

Secure House  
Wheeling, West Virginia  
Monday, August 11, 1997  
2:47 am

Scully had just changed from her suit to baggy knit shorts and an oversized FBI T-shirt that she used for sleeping when there was a single tap on the door. "Coming!" She moved across the room, using the bed as a support. 

"It's me." 

Smiling ever-so-slightly, she threw back the dead-bolt to admit him. "And here I was hoping for Kenneth Branagh." 

He surveyed her carefully, judging her readiness to talk before he entered. He opened softly, "I was wondering if you had some of that ointment for skin rash. There's a place under the lower edge of the cast..." 

She was already at her bag when he reached her, searching, wincing periodically. "Yes. Of course." 

He eased his white polo shirt over his head, turning so she could check the affected area. "Thanks, it rubbed there while I was driving." 

From her seat on the bed, she examined the reddened area thoroughly. "You really shouldn't fuss over me like you do. You'll have months of physical therapy to go through once this comes off." She rubbed her fingers over the ointment to warm it before slipping it under the plaster.

He indulged himself in a soft ah, then copied his friend's drawl. "It's all part of the job, Ma'am."

She rolled her eyes. _This is going nowhere._ "So, how many times did you work with Stone? You two seemed pretty familiar with each other." 

He lowered himself into the metal chair across from her. "Not enough." Light danced out of his eyes. "Jarred was one of the few bright spots from my time with Patterson. We shared a hotel room on one of the longer trials in Maine. On nights when I had trouble sleeping, he'd tell me about his uncles down in Mississippi." 

She settled under the blankets, shifting the pillows around to support her ribs. "You must have gone through several generations, then." 

He nodded. "We did. Between the ones who disappeared whenever the ATF rolled by, and the three who took a fishing trip up the Bayou that began in December 1941 and ended in October 1945, he told me I reminded him of family."

She eased her torso back gently, folding the blankets over her legs. "So why would he be here helping us today?" 

Mulder rubbed his chin. "I'm guessing it has to do with that wedding ring of his. As a prosecutor, he had to go where the Justice Department wanted him to. In private practice, he could pick and choose his cases. I'm glad he's on our side, Scully. He'd be a devil of an opponent." 

She sighed. "You know why they're doing this, don't you?" 

He closed his eyes wearily. "Yeah. They want to flush us out, don't they?" 

She nodded. "I'm afraid so. They know if we tell what we think we've found out with the evidence we have, we'll look like lunatics." 

He let his head drop against the concrete block wall behind him. "Using that report we recovered in February with the sections 'reconstructed' from my supposedly eidetic memory would be a disaster. All they have to do is find someone in the Bureau to call me a loony," he objected, laughing helplessly, "and we'll be eliminated as effective opposition for quite some time, if not for good."

She eyed him. "Mulder, you may just have hit on something useful here." 

He lifted his head to look over at her. "Hum?" 

Scully slid her feet over the edge of the mattress. "You took the standard psychological tests prior to admission to Quantico, I'm sure. Those are a matter of public record. How did you rate?" 

His eyebrows drew together. _Only Scully would think..._ "Fairly well, I suppose. I've never checked."

She padded over to stand in front of him. "Tomorrow-" She rolled her eyes. "-later on today, I mean, let's find out. If they've been tampered with, we can tell. Either way, we might be able to put together documentation to prove that you're sane." She touched his shoulder. "If they put someone like Colton on the stand, well, Stone will attack his motivations like a bulldog."

Grasping his shirt, he rose. "Okay. That'll get us started." Stopping in the doorway, he called over his shoulder, "Thanks, Scully." 

Padding to his side, she helped him slide back into the polo shirt. "Mulder?" 

He turned to check her face. "Hum?" 

She glanced down at the floor before she continued. "Do you mind if I ask you something?" Tugging at the hem of her T-shirt, she twisted it around her finger, then clenched both hands into fists.

He closed the door, leaning against it. "What?" _Whatever this is, it's personal, and it bothers her._ "I'm here, Scully." He watched her walk back to the bed, her hands restlessly pulling at her hem. 

She settled on the foot of the mattress across from the chair, waiting to speak until he lowered himself into it. "Am I..." She stilled herself by clutching the blankets on either side of her. 

Looking over at her, he waited. 

She sighed. "Am I becoming too-" She mused as she stared at her lap, "-intense? Rigid? What Saunders said, is it true?" 

Relieved she had come to him with this, he grinned. "No. That's just how he is, playing games with you all the time. He's trying to maintain a little control over a situation that could easily blow up in his face." 

She nodded. "Like we all are." She clasped her hands in her lap. "Oh. Sorry to bother you with this, Mulder." 

He stood, grasping her shoulder to make her look up at him. "Don't apologize for needing to talk to someone, Scully. I have to use that degree of mine eventually." He dropped his hand. "Are you worried about hormone changes, or is it that dream you had?" 

She shrugged, then winced at the effort. "A little of both, actually. With everything that's happened, I hardly know what to make of myself anymore." She slid under the covers. "I shouldn't keep you up for something like this." 

Mulder fiddled with a wrinkle in the blanket by her covered feet, then smoothed it flat with his long fingers. "Anytime you want to talk, Scully, I'll listen. Anytime. I mean that." He walked to the door, looking back at her as he turned the knob. "Get some rest. You'll see things more clearly on a few hours sleep." 

She lifted one corner of her mouth. "Unlike you?" 

He snorted. "Yeah. Later, okay?" 

She flicked off the bedside table lamp as he closed the door behind him.

\--o-0-o--

Ben-Gurion International Airport  
Lydda, Israel (outside Tel Aviv)  
Monday, 12:27 pm

Margaret Scully waited quietly behind Max and Caroline Lowenberg as they passed through the Israeli customs labyrinth. She had seen more armed camouflage-garbed men on her way from the plane than she ever remembered from the military bases where she had lived with her family. 

The dark-haired woman touched Caroline's arm. "Was there some uprising this morning? These guards - "

Caroline smiled back at her. "Nothing more than usual." 

Margaret blanched. "You mean it's like this all the time?" 

Max leaned over his wife's shoulder. "I'm afraid so, Maudie. But don't worry, just stick close to us, and you'll be okay. One of the sub-ministers of Culture will be meeting us here soon." 

Margaret looked to Caroline, who seemed completely at ease with the situation. "Meeting us?" 

The white-haired woman nodded. "Oh, yes. Max has many friends here. Daniel stopped by for a visit during the spring." She scanned the waiting family members just beyond the booth. "Isn't that he now?" 

When Max waved, a slight man with glasses and close-cropped grey hair that had retreated from the top of his head decades ago, waved back. The Minister bent over the Customs clerk, showed his papers, then pointed to the three seniors waiting in line. The clerk shouted in Hebrew, then waved them forward. Max began herding Caroline and Margaret toward the front of the line, apologizing to the other passengers as they passed them.

Margaret whispered to Caroline, "I didn't know Max spoke Hebrew so fluently." 

His wife responded, equally softly, "One has to, especially here. It's a good thing he does, because it was one of the languages I was expressly not taught." 

Confused, Margaret glanced sharply at her friend, attempting to add this new piece of information to the nonsensical mosaic she was assembling in her mind.

Daniel pushed his way through to them. "Max, you old devil!" The two men embraced, exchanging many firm claps on the back, before Daniel turned to Caroline, greeting her with an incongruous formality. "Mrs. Lowenberg." 

Margaret was contrasting Daniel's behavior with Ibrahim Nussbaum's at the Willard as Max pulled her forward. 

He held Daniel by the shoulder. "This is our friend, Margaret Scully." 

The two exchanged stiff handshakes, Daniel as formal and cold with her as he had been with Caroline. He immediately turned his attention back to Max, leaving the women trailing along behind them. 

Noticing Margaret's look of surprise, Caroline hastened to reassure her. "This is the Middle East, Margaret, men are more effusive with each other, and less with women, than we who have lived in America expect. Men who have just met will sometimes walk around arm in arm, but it's rare to see married couples holding hands. Think nothing of it." 

Margaret nodded. "But when do we go to the Kibbutz? Isn't that why we're here?" 

Caroline sighed. "I'm afraid it isn't as straightforward as we would like. Remember that to a certain extent, Israel is a state under siege. There have been more bombings, the problems with Bethlehem, and this latest scare with Iran, so Max will have to pull a few strings to get us into the area. We'll be here for several days before he can line up all the right permits and necessary escorts." 

Biting her lip, Margaret eyed a group of soldiers who were shouting as they passed them. "If you say so, Caroline."

\--o-0-o--

Office of the Lone Gunmen  
Alexandria, Virginia  
Monday, 3:27 pm

Nichols rapped on the Gunmen's door, then stepped back, waiting for his partner, who was lugging her duffel up the walkway. He was on a case again, away from the hassles of divorces and packing, no longer divvying up the flotsam and jetsam of a failed life under the haunted eyes of his daughters. 

Rosen shifted the weight, then patted his arm. "You'll be okay, Nic." 

He nodded. _This, I can handle._ He shrugged. "Sure. Work is good for what ails me, right?" 

Having thrown back the various bolts and safety gauges, Byers was waving them inside. "You guys seen Mulder or Scully?" 

They both nodded, then Nichols filled them in. "We met them at the airport, and neither of them has any objections to Langly tagging along on this part of the investigation." He nodded to the object of their inquiry, who had been waiting just inside the doorway.

Rosen searched the blond Gunman's face, then queried him, "Why do you want to come with us?" 

A thick sheaf of data sheets in hand, Frohike stepped out of the kitchen to nod a greeting. "Because he was the lucky one who drew the long straw." 

Nichols turned to Rosen, a thought leaping into both their minds. _They'd all be coming along otherwise?_

Langly had extended his arm toward the brunette. "You have the piece?" 

She handed him the duffel bag. "It was just as we had thought. The rearrangements on a molecular level are beyond anything our researchers are capable of." 

Nichols blinked. "What are you two talking about?" 

Byers offered up a question as an explanation. "What's always been the limitation to computer speeds?" 

Nichols shrugged. "Overheating?" 

Rosen grinned at him. "That's the symptom, not the source. No, what Byers is referring to, in a way, is the same thing that makes space travel such a difficulty. Distance."

Nichols chewed his mustache. "Forgive this grizzled detective, but I'm still lost here. What do you mean?" 

Taking the older man by the arm, Frohike led Nichols to the near edge of a battered low table in the center of the room. "These three are just a bunch of eggheads playing games, my friend. Let me put it simply." He pushed dog-eared back issues of their newspaper onto the floor, then lined up several stacks of papers in a row on the coffeetable. "A digital computer's hardware breaks down, eventually, to a series of toggles, set to either zero or one." He shifted two of the stacks to the other side. "Now, that's always meant some location is either empty of charge," he explained, tapping the bare spot on the table, "or charged." He slid the pile back into place. "With magnetic media - " 

Byers interjected, "Like memory or disk space, or floppy disks."

Frohike continued, "You increase the speed by decreasing the distance you move the charge to flip from one to zero and back again." He shifted the papers over by exactly the length of the sheets. "But, one can make the charged or uncharged spot only so small, before there's no way to control how the charge is actually distributed." He shoved the pages out across the table.

Rosen cleared the table of all papers but one that she tore into several pieces, before lining the scraps up. "Until one changes the size of the medium used to store the charge, Nic." She knelt on the far side of the table. "You've heard of nanotubes?" 

He shook his head. "I don't read Science like you and Scully do." 

She shrugged. "No matter. They're short tubes of carbon atoms, where the tubes are actually coiled sheets of carbon lattices. If we can control how they grow, and I mean on an atomic level, here, we can use the tubes to hold a single buckyball, that new carbon configuration you may have heard of." 

The balding Montanan’s grey eyebrows shot up. "Those, I remember. Named for Buckminster Fuller, as I recall. Something about his domes, right?" 

Langly grinned. "Yeah, the carbon atoms form into a curved network that looks like a geodesic dome." 

Rosen had balled up a single sheet of paper, then coiled a different one into a tube. She inserted the ball into the coil, then tipped the paper, until the ball rolled to the other end, capped by her free hand. "Now, once we understand how to control it, the buckyball can give us a one or a zero, just by using static electricity to move the ball from one end of the tube to the other, then back again." 

Frohike grinned. "So, we solve the problems with speed by shortening the distance to these nanotubes, where the buckyball can be pulled around at close to the speed of light in a vacuum." 

Nichols rubbed his chin. "Are you telling me this is how their technology operates?" 

Byers nodded. "According to the results of the scanning electron microscope surveys *we* had conducted-" He smirked at Rosen, who nodded back. "-they're using carbon-based components in something beyond nanotubes, but the principle is the same. They still haven't developed a true multi-level storage device like neurons and axions." 

Rosen patted his arm. "The way the brain operates." 

Nichols looked from his partner to the Gunmen. "So, where does this get us in terms of finding where the aliens are?" 

Langly shrugged. "It tells us what to expect that they'll be doing."

Nichols was calculating. "You said the ship was a carbon-fiber hull?" 

Rosen nodded. "Their entire culture seems to be based around adapting living structures, so that should come as no surprise."

Nichols narrowed his eyes. "Ah. Although they've proven perfectly capable of using our technology in the past, they seem to want to do something beyond it now. We know what types of materials they need to rebuild some portion of their own." He hypothesized, back on familiar ground and reveling in it. "We need to track acquisition of relatively pure carbon sources." He looked around at the others. "And that would be?" 

Rosen smiled at her partner, relieved that underneath all the jargon, he had realized that they were on a hunt where his drug-tracking skills would come in handy. "Well, the purest source is diamond, of course." 

Frohike waved his hand. "But it's unlikely they'd be either attempting to purchase or mine them themselves."

Nichols looked to his partner. "Oh?" 

She nodded. "The tetrahedral crystalline structure of diamond makes for very stable molecular bonds. Because the electrons are locked up, it won't hold a charge, won't conduct electricity." 

Nichols recalled the complaints of the jeweler who had reshaped the stone his mother had given him, preparing it for the engagement ring he had then presented Alicia, all those years ago. "And it's tough to cut." 

Langly agreed, "Basically, you have to melt it to reuse the carbon." 

Nichols thought out loud. "Too energy-consuming. They don't like wasting natural resources like that. So? They refine carbon?" 

Rosen rubbed the back of her neck. "Maybe. Only I wouldn't expect they would use hydrocarbons. They'd go for something simpler and more in tune with their philosophical outlook. Something renewable that we already produce, even if it meant a little extra work." 

Nichols gaze fell on the papers scattered across the floor, then he pointed. "Like those." 

The four exchanged glances, then Rosen nodded. "Like those." 

Langly rubbed his hands together gleefully. "Let's get started. We'll check for new buyers of paper recycling plants, or new users, or any changes in raw paper going and coming out of existing plants." Chattering happily, the three Gunmen headed for their computer lab.

Nichols and Rosen followed them in, Nichols whistling, slightly off-key, to himself. 

Rosen glanced at her partner. "You seem like you feel better." 

He grinned back. "Nothing like some honest roll up your sleeves and dig through the archives detective work."

\--o-0-o--

Apartment Complex  
Laurel, Maryland  
Monday, 8:47 pm

'Ace' rubbed her eyes wearily. Her covert financial transfer software was protected by several layers of lockouts, one within the other, but the Singapore banks had consistently tripped the first two levels. She had monitored the efforts of the distributed processing group, attacking this same problem using millions of free CPU cycles from thousands of home computers, looking for alternate solutions to those she had developed. But she had another problem, one closer to home, a 240 pound problem to be exact, who was standing behind her, arms crossed, glaring at the top of her head. 

'Charlie' poked her back. "Lisa? You ready to talk now?"

Dropping her hands in her lap, she rotated in her computer chair to face him. "What is it? Do you need something?" 

He bent over her, grasping the arms of her chair. "I need you, Lisa, I need to talk to you with all your attention about..." 

She pushed him upright, standing, then moving until most of the room was between them. "Drew, it was the best way to keep track of Mulder and Scully." 

He stalked over to her. "But, Black Lung plays games with these informants he creates! Only telling them half-truths so they don't spill too much to Mulder, until they become a liability." Lifting his arm, he extended his index finger with his thumb cocked upwards, "Then, bang! He eliminates them. I don't want to end up dead or insane." He reached for her. "Not when I have you." 

She pushed past him again. "Because I'd be watching out for you, that's expressly *not* how this would work. I wouldn't let him play any mind-games with you like he did with the others." 

He caught the brunette by the arm, tucking her up close to him. "But you're never there, Lisa." He covered her mouth with his hand when she began to object. "Oh, you may be here in body, but in your mind, you're a million miles away. You don't eat right, you don't sleep." 

She rested her head against his shoulder. "I thought that was why I had you. To watch out for me." She searched his face. "I can count on you can't I? To take care of me?" 

He wrapped both arms around her. "Of course you can." Shifting one hand up to the back of her neck, he began nibbling her throat. "Come to bed. Now. You need your sleep." He slipped one hand up under her shirt, but pulled away when she went rigid. "Lisa?" 

She shook her head. "My proximity alarm. Someone's outside the door." Crossing the room, she tapped a few keys, then a tiny window with surveillance camera frames appeared. "What does he want now?" 

'Charlie' followed her to the door, cautioning, "Don't listen to him, Lisa, he'll only lie to you." 

When the door opened, the Smoking Man was holding an unlit Morley in his left hand. He set his face in its broadest grimace. "Ah, there you are, my lovely." He bent in to kiss her, but 'Ace' pulled away. 

She leaned back against 'Charlie', who had pressed himself close to her spine before she demanded, "What do you want?" 

The old man waved at the interior of the apartment. "What? I'm not welcome here? So different from before..." He sent meaningful gazes toward each of them. 

'Charlie' grasped both his lover's arms firmly. "We were busy. What do you want?" 

The Smoking Man pushed his way past the couple. "Ah, I've lost you too, I see." He lit the cigarette with a match. "No matter, I only wanted to quickly pass along some new information, then I'll let you two return to your... recreational activities."

'Charlie' slid 'Ace' to one side. "Say what you came to say and leave." 

The old spy puffed the Morley several times before responding. "Very well." He stroked 'Ace''s fingers. "I'd much prefer you spent more of your time on the banking software than at the Bureau. Your efforts are wasted there, and on your pleasurable distractions." He raised his eyes to 'Charlie''s. "I'd have a little talk with your Leader, if I were you, about his latest conquest, who may be known to you. A Cynthia Mulholland?" He waved his tobacco-stained hand before turning to step into the twilight. "Just so you'd know." 

'Charlie' slammed the door. "Why is he doing this?" 

'Ace' stood beside him. "Who, him, or 'Finn'?" She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. "He's trying to divide us, you know that. Why 'Finn' is dating the X-Files Section secretary is beyond me." She pointed to her SGI machine. "I already give him full updates from my eavesdropping network scattered throughout the building. Does 'Finn' think I'm incompetent or something?" 

'Charlie' sighed. "Or is it just his obsessive need to prove himself the victor by fouling Mulder's domain?" He stared at the door. "Do you think *he*'s already told 'Andrew'?"

'Ace' stepped close to him. "Either he will or we will." She rested her hands on his chest. "But there's some unfinished business we need to attend to ourselves. I want to make you happy with me, Drew." The ferocity of her assault on his lips aroused him instantly, completely, so much so that all else faded to inconsequentiality.

\--o-0-o--

Safe House  
Wheeling, West Virginia  
Tuesday, August 12, 1997  
8:27 am

Fox Mulder grunted at the persistent banging, raps that ricocheted through his drowsing mind. _I just got to sleep._ "Yeah?" The response came out as a hoarse croak. 

"Agent Mulder?" 

The dark-haired man frowned at the concerned undertone in Walter Skinner's voice. "Sir?" He slid off the bed, struggling with the thick security door. "Is everything okay?" 

Skinner reached in to take Mulder by the arm. "You need to get your clothes on. Scully is up and wants your assistance in the morgue." 

Mulder nodded as he headed back into his room. "How long have I been out?"

Skinner followed him in. "It's Tuesday morning, Agent Mulder." 

The tall man glanced over, surprised. "Oh. Sorry." He turned away, expecting another dressing-down.

Skinner held up both hands. "I'd prefer it if you were both healthy, but Jarred and I agreed you two should be allowed to sleep as long as you seemed to need it." 

Mulder scratched his blackened chin. "How long has Scully been awake?" 

Skinner stepped over to shift the polo shirt down across the cast. "A couple of hours." 

Mulder dropped his sweatpants, one-handedly tugging an old pair of jeans up in their place. "Oh. She's ready to go, I take it." After stepping into a loose pair of running shoes, he looked over apologetically. "Sir, about what happened in the Arctic, I didn't mean for Scully and me to be..." 

Skinner clenched his jaw. "There'll be time for this later, Agent Mulder. We need to move on." 

Mulder blinked. "Okay. I'll join you in a minute." He headed for the bathroom.

\--o-0-o--

Moriah Hotel  
Tel Aviv, Israel  
Tuesday, 2:47 pm

Caroline Lowenberg stirred her tea anxiously, then sent a quick, helpless smile across the table to Margaret Scully. 

The gesture was lost on the dark-haired woman, who had fixed her gaze on the double doors looking out onto the street. "Where is he? Why should it be so difficult to get permission to cross this tiny country?" 

Having purposely seated herself with her back to the view of the crowded beaches, Caroline sighed. "I wish I knew, Margaret." For both women, the thrill of amusing themselves by sight-seeing among the ruins around and in the museums of the city had worn off. She turned to watch the door as well. "Oh, Max." 

Margaret glanced at her friend, then followed her gaze to the side door of the hotel. "Oh, dear." The tall, broad-shouldered man looked every one of his seventy-eight years as he limped painfully across to them. 

Caroline stepped out to take him by the arm. "Max?" 

He patted her hand. "Not to worry. I've walked a little too much today. Blisters." Standing by Margaret's chair, he grasped their friend's shoulder. "I'm sorry to be so late, Maudie. I had several detours along the way." He dropped the accordion-backed folder of papers on the table. "At least, I have all the necessary signatures from the Israeli government and the Kibbutz Control Board." 

Caroline poured her husband a cup of tea, flavoring it with two lumps of sugar and a dash of cream. "I'm sorry you have to do this all alone. Is there anything I," she queried, glancing at Margaret, "we, can do to help?" 

Sipping quietly, he considered, then offered, "Not really. I've about used up all the favors I still have getting this far." He set the cup back down on its sea-green saucer. "The bureaucracy has become immensely tangled these days." 

Margaret pushed a plate with two turkey sandwiches toward him. "Too bad we can't employ Alexander's solution." 

He smiled, then turned the metaphor around. "Well, Alexander did make a point of bypassing Palestine. But it looks like we can't." 

Caroline was searching through the sheets as she queried, "So we will be on our way to Jerusalem?" 

Margaret blinked. "Jerusalem?" 

Max nodded. "Zion it is, Maudie." He pointed to the papers in Caroline's hand. "We'll be passing through Palestinian-controlled areas, and while we're there, we'll need the protection of the Guard. We'll be dropping off our Israeli escorts before and after each enclave, but we'll need the Palestinians once we're inside." 

Margaret covered her mouth with her hand. "All those tour groups! How do they handle all this?" 

Saddened, Max took a bite of one of the sandwiches. After he swallowed, he looked over at her. "Well, no matter who controls the country, everyone needs the money tourists bring in. So, they get through first. It's the individuals or families arriving on short notice, like we are, that get handed this can of worms."

Her half-glasses now on her nose, Caroline continued, "Also, most tourists have fixed destinations: Jerusalem, Bethlehem, Masada. We're going into a part of the country that doesn't get many visitors, which was one of the ideas behind the Kibbutzim in the first place. No planes, no trains. Just vehicular access." Her eyes twinkling, she leaned across the table. "We could do without the Palestinian escorts if we crossed over the mountains on donkeys." 

Margaret shook her head. "Once was enough for me, thank you." She looked to Max, whose bushy white mustache was twitching merrily. "Unless that - "

He chuckled. "After spending all that time with Mulder, you let his Mother pull your leg like that? No, there are no donkey trails over the hills, although," he teased, tugging at Caroline's elbow, "I'd like to see you try it, my dear." 

Caroline stuck out her chin. "Anytime." 

Margaret held up both hands. "Okay. So, when do we leave for Jerusalem?" 

Max shrugged. "We can fly down there tonight, if you wish. Or in the morning, if that's easier." He leaned toward Margaret. "It isn't like this country has totally escaped the Twentieth Century, you know." His hazel eyes clouded as he grew reflexive. "Far from it." He looked from one woman to the other. "Tomorrow?" 

They nodded.

\--o-0-o--

Morgue Safe House  
Wheeling, West Virginia  
Tuesday, 8:51 am

Scully glanced over at the door when she heard the keyed lock buttons clicking. _He won't be happy to hear this._

Mulder, his hair still sticking up on one side, pushed his way through ahead of Skinner, then nodded to his partner. "Hey." 

In deference to Mulder's queasiness, she pulled the sheet over the body she was working on. "Good morning." She stepped over to meet him. The deep circles that had formed under his eyes during the flight, then the long road trip, were gone, but she suspected his energy reserves were barely recharged. _Just like yours._

Mulder checked his partner over. Although she kept her left arm tucked tightly against her side, she was moving with far more ease than he expected. He ran his hand through his hair several times, only partially collapsing the thatch for all his effort. "What do you have?" 

She led the two men back to the corpse, sliding the sheet off to expose the chest. She had cut the stitches of the previous pathologist's, using forceps to hold the abdominal cavity open. She pointed to the interior. "Where are the internal organs? Is this some kind of joke prepared prior to my examination?" 

Mulder's eyes followed her finger. The intestines, kidneys, and bladder were missing, replaced with styrofoam beads.

Skinner shook his head. "Agent Scully, I supervised the autopsies myself, locked the bodies up myself. I don't understand how this could have happened, or when." 

Shaking with rage, Mulder rounded on his superior. "We have no back-up physical evidence now, just those tests that can never be verified. Who was the Pathologist of Record? Where is he?" 

"I had to pull a lot of strings to get somebody down here." Skinner snapped back. "He came down from Quantico, cleared through Director Freeh's office himself." The two men were nose to nose now. "My neck is in the noose right along with yours on this one, Mulder. Allen Parker is a man I trust, that's why I was happy to use him on this case." 

Holding the clipboard with the tests, Scully pushed her way between the two men. "But he's not the Pathologist of Record." Both men looked down at her. "I am." She held the papers out for them to view. 

Mulder's eyebrows drew together. "What? Let me see that." He peered over her shoulder. "Scully, that's not even a passable attempt to forge your handwriting."

Skinner took the form off the board. "Nor is it Allen's. Yet it was Allen who came here." 

Mulder looked down at his partner. "You thinking what I'm thinking, Scully?" 

She nodded. "There's no way Parker could have been programmed to write differently between when you requested him and when he arrived. Oh, stress can alter a signature, certainly." She looked to her partner, who grinned back, recalling the same long-ago argument. "But there are pages of handwritten notes here. Altering a fundamentally instinctive behavior to that extent requires months of reprogramming. The only question we can ask is this:"

Mulder looked over at the Assistant Director. "What would have been in those mens' bodies that would have been of such interest to the shape-shifters that they would have broken in here and stolen it now?" 

A different voice spoke from the door. "Or perhaps there is no interest." His arms crossed, Saunders advanced on them, then looked down at Scully. "They know you, know you will pursue them. They know the members of the Group, know they will pursue them as well. What is the best way to stop that?" 

She arched both eyebrows. "Keep us and the Consortium off-balance, but after each other. They'll wiggle right through the cracks, leaving us high and dry."

Both shoulders slumping, Mulder, suddenly drained, rubbed his face with his hands. "Games within games. I wonder what they've done to the Consortium?"

\--o-0-o--

Secluded Research Facility  
Upstate New York  
Wednesday, August 13, 1997  
10:46 pm

Andy Millman leaned close to the speaker mounted on the monitoring station wall to listen. The two shape-shifters had been clicking to each other for several hours now, and he didn't like it. Normally, he volunteered for this graveyard guard duty, using the long stretches of quiet time to catch up on his all-consuming hobby, baseball. He could play back the tapes of several games simultaneously, even keeping up on the pennant race in the AL West if he could pull the games down off the satellite feed. 

But since the two women had been brought in, there had been nothing but interruptions and disturbances late at night. This was when the aliens would test out their latest escape plot, so he had to keep several monitors displaying outputs from multiple sensors to make sure they didn't find their way out of the facility. 

_What's this?_ One of the women had a cockroach in the palm of her hand, clicking and snapping excitedly as she stroked it. The sandy-haired guard checked the monitor for the UV sensors. _I can't tell._ If the roach was one of the outside shape-shifters, come to stage a rescue, he had picked an odd form to use. These aliens were unable to morph as proficiently as the later arrivals, so he doubted they were all going to change into roaches, then fly out through some cracked window. 

_But still._ Standing, he alerted the other night guards that he wanted to check on the shape-shifters, that he would give an all clear in the next ten minutes. After receiving confirmation from the booths at the four entrances to the building, he trotted down the hall to the sealed doors. 

Checking the monitor, he saw that the women were still fascinated with the roach, placing it gently on the concrete, collecting it if it ran too far away. Once he initiated the entrance sequence, he checked again. Both women were now drawn up straight, shoulder to shoulder facing the door. The roach was nowhere to be seen.

The sandy-haired, uniformed guard smiled nervously when he finally entered their chamber. He was used to the various criminals and test subjects that would be brought here, but to suddenly be face to face with beings from beyond the solar system, incredibly old ones at that, left him ill-at-ease. 

He cleared his throat. "Um, I just wanted to make sure you were okay. We tend to consider bugs like that to be, well..."

One of the dark-haired women glared at him. "Vermin? How narrow-minded. Think again." 

Jumping when he heard scratching sounds, Millman looked down at the floor. The roach, waving its antennae furiously, had grown in size until it was as large as his long feet. The bug's head disappeared under his blue trouser leg, followed by the rest of its mud-brown body. He was so busy swatting at his pants and shouting that he never heard the whoosh of air preceding the blow that felled him.

\--o-0-o--

Ed Pollack whistled anxiously as he trotted down the hallway to Millman's racks of monitors and cassette players. Poking his head around the corner, he queried the lanky blond man leaning back in his padded chair. "You okay?"

Andy Millman smiled over his shoulder. "Yeah, sure. They had a roach in their room." He shrugged. "They wanted to keep it for a pet or something, but I wouldn't let them. Security and all." 

Ed nodded. "You didn't check back in with us. We were beginning to worry." 

Andy rolled his eyes. "Sorry. They were repeating a triple play that I missed when I got back here." 

Ed grinned. "Only you, Andy." The two men waved, Ed turning on his heel to resume his post. Andy thumbed the volume up on the game, obscuring the thump and soft grunt that issued from just around the corner.

\--o-0-o--

Secluded Research Facility  
Upstate New York  
Thursday, August 14, 1997  
8:34 am

Trish Akers waved to her two friends and fellow guards as she stepped through the doorway and into the most secure part of the lab building. "So, how did it go with the women? Problems?" 

Andy shrugged. "No." 

Ed grinned. "They tried to make a pet out of a cockroach. Can you imagine?" 

She smiled back. "Well, it's not quite the Birdman of Alcatraz, but if they're as fascinated with Earth's creatures as they pretend to be, it isn't very surprising. See you guys tonight." 

They waved their farewells, then separated to walk to their respective vehicles, Andy's a sport utility Ford Explorer, and Ed's a beaten-up Chevy Suburban. 

Settling inside the monitor booth, Trish performed her morning checks for tampering and failed machinery. Finding none, she set about cleaning Andy's burger wrappers, plastic cups, and paper trays away. _Like he isn't big enough to do this himself._ Only then did she check the sensors for the shape-shifters room. _It all looks good, except for..._ After a second glance, she hit the alert button, leaning forward to call to the rest of the guards, "I need some medical assistance in here, right now! There's something wrong with the aliens!" 

Once an army of physicians and guards was assembled, they rushed through the entrance procedures, then pushed their way inside. The monitor had shown the two women lying head to head, on the floor, motionless, but Trish didn't want them walking into a trap. 

Alex Richards, the senior physician present that morning, bent over the two women, reaching for a wrist of each in turn. "They seem to have a pulse, what ever that means. This is the closest I've been permitted to examine them." The others gathered around gasped as the forms of the women began rolling off the supine bodies like a scroll, curling up from both pairs of feet. Beneath what must have been a living covering were the unconscious bodies of Andy Millman and Ed Pollack. Richards began barking orders. "Seal those doors off, now! Someone get some stretchers, we need to take these men down to the infirmary. No telling what's been injected into them!" 

A flurry of activity, then the two men were carried from the room. A few minutes later, they awoke in the infirmary, confused, but otherwise unharmed. Richards sent them off with the head guard of the shift to try to work out exactly what happened to them. No one held out any false hopes that the Organization would be able to track and reclaim their charges anytime soon. Pollack expected them both to be unemployed once their four bosses found out what had happened. Millman wondered if they would live out the day, or whether the Organization would simply relieve itself of the necessity to burden their pension plan. An aura of gloom had settled over most of the lab personnel.

No one had noticed that a slip of paper fell from Millman's pocket when he was carried down the hall, until the janitor rolled up the corridor an hour or so later. He was oblivious as well when that same piece of paper blew out of his trash cart as he crossed the lawn to the incinerator, prepared to secure all the day's work from unwanted eyes. Once it had rolled into the bushes, the paper reformed into a sparrow, winging its way to the nearest bush, hopping from one to the next until it was out of the complex and gone.

\--o-0-o--

Office of the Lone Gunmen  
Alexandria, Virginia  
Thursday, 7:24 pm

Rosen and Langly had been struggling with a CPU chassis, she jamming cables inside, while he attempted to slide the case shut. She had four screws tucked in one corner of her lips, while he was clutching the Phillips-head screwdriver in his teeth. 

She looked over at him. "Mm, I think that'll do." 

He shoved the case back on. 

Nichols looked over his half-high reading glasses from his seat on the couch. "You guys still fighting with that thing?" He passed a sheaf of papers to Frohike, who grinned. 

The little man stood, then crossed the room, nearly slipping on the papers and maps strewn across the carpet as he picked his way over to them. "How's it coming?" 

Langly passed Rosen the screwdriver before he responded, "Oh, I think we're there. Good thing we had this old 486 still around. It'll be perfect for a dedicated router." He peered over the back of the unit. "Don't put too many of those in. If this Spectrum analyzer card doesn't work, we'll be digging inside again really soon." 

She shrugged. "These cases aren't like an old 286 chassis. Those you could drop from a plane and still have work." After tucking the remaining screws back in her pocket, she passed out the red-handled tool. "That'll do. Now we can try to check for Lady Lovelace's packets when they come in, grab them, and redirect them with false data on the way out." 

Byers looked toward the street. "Somebody just pulled up into the driveway." After a mad scramble by the rest to collect and conceal the documents strewn across the room, he checked out the peephole, then broke into a broad grin. "Hey, no sweat, guys, it's them!" He was unlatching the multiple locks and swung the door wide, catching Mulder off-guard. 

His fist still poised to knock, Mulder recovered sufficiently to favor them with a smirk. "Glad somebody missed us." He waved his partner inside.

Scully scanned the room. Frohike was perched precariously on a suspicious lump under the cushions on the sofa closest to the door. Langly was holding papers behind his back, some of which cascaded to the floor while she watched. Cocking both eyebrows, she turned to Rosen and Nichols, both of whom were standing, arms crossed, in front a computer resting on one of the endtables. The red disk light flashed randomly. She moved toward them. "You two certainly look right at home here." 

Nichols shrugged. "Hey, you go where the action is." He stepped toward Scully. "How are you both?" 

She lifted one corner of her mouth. "Recovering nicely." 

The questioning glance the older man sent toward the Section Head was answered by a roll of hazel eyes. 

Mulder faced Byers. "Whatcha got?" 

The bearded man pointed toward Langly. "We think we've figured out what the shape-shifters are up to." 

Mulder settled on the couch by Frohike, Scully taking a seat across from the pair. The dark-haired agent rubbed his arm under the cast. "I thought we had beaten you to it, but go on." 

Frohike slid a map from under the cushions. "They've been purchasing equipment from suppliers all up and down the East Coast." 

Mulder frowned. "How do you know?" 

Rosen stepped forward. After a quick recap of their initial ideas, she looked from Mulder to Scully. "Now, what's the highest-grade mass-marketed paper available? Either of you know?" 

The auburn-haired woman nodded. "The fan-folded form-feed paper that the old dot-matrix printers used to use." 

Mulder stared at the two women. "What?" 

Rosen nodded, then continued, "Had to be, Mulder, if it broke down easily, the dust and fibers would jam the printers. Since most everyone uses standard-sized sheets in laser and ink-jet printers today, paper recycled from the old stuff is getting rarer and rarer. There were specific requests for just such paper that came in to plants from many different small companies." 

Nichols tucked his glasses in his shirt pocket. "Now, that, in and of itself, isn't suspicious. What was, we discovered upon checking the records on several of them, was that they existed only as mailbox addresses, so we went back even further, to see who had set them up. *Those* persons were the ones placing the equipment orders we were just following before the systems were crashed by Frohike's Lady Lovelace." He waggled his thick fingers at his partner and the Gunmen. "The Brains been preparing an active firewall defense-" He sighed dramatically. "-whatever that is, for a couple of days now."

Scully shifted to the edge of the cushions, easing the weight off her ribs. "This sounds like the type of investigation the Bureau would normally be interested in. Did you have any help with it?" 

Rosen nodded. "We looked up your buddy Pendrell, Scully, and he was more than willing to help us gain access to the commercial data bases. Why?" 

She was chewing her lower lip. "When we go back into the Hoover Building tomorrow, Mulder, I want to buttonhole Arthur and ask him a few questions. He's a common link with the Saunders investigation as well."

Mulder’s eyes glittered. "Do you want me there for the interrogation, Agent Scully?"

She tossed her head. "Of course. This isn't one of your videotapes, Mulder." Since they had an audience, she spoke a little more forcefully. "If he isn't nervous with you present, we'll know he's been replaced by a shape-shifter."

Chuckles made a round of the others, all but Frohike, who stared pointedly at his feet. 

Mulder reached out to touch his partner's shoulder. "I take it you'd like to go home?" 

Stretching cautiously, she nodded. "After a week of that hospital, my own bed and that big bathtub are just about heaven right now."

The two agents left, Rosen and Nichols excusing themselves to follow suit a few minutes later.

\--o-0-o--

Apartment 5  
Alexandria, Virginia  
Thursday, 9:23 pm

As Dana Scully settled into the steaming hot water of her bathtub, an uncharacteristic 'ahhhh' escaped her lips. After some effort, she had convinced her partner that she was perfectly fine on her own. The remembered discussion brought a soft curve to her lips. _Mulder, you're the one in the body cast._ She had offered to let him stay at her place if he needed any help with routine personal care, but, sensing the tables had been turned, he declined with a twinkle in his eye. 

Scully had taken the portable unit into the bathroom, expecting at least two more calls from her partner before he collapsed onto his futon for a few hours. He had called once, just to let her know he was home safe, but that his latest batch of finned charges needed burials at sea. _Oh, Mulder!_ Her partner, the eternal optimist. 

When the phone buzzed, she lifted it slowly to her ear. "Hey." 

She heard an answering chuckle. "Well, they're gone. One had some weird purple fungus growing on it." 

She ran a little more hot water into the tub. "Mulder, have you noticed how we seem to never have *normal* conversations anymore?" 

A snort. "Did we ever have normal conversations, Doctor Scully?" 

Shifting against the porcelain, Scully turned onto her healthy side. "I presume there's an equally exotic batch of flora in your refrigerator?" 

She heard thumping as he walked. "Mulder?" 

"Yes?" 

"Why are you still wearing your hiking boots?" 

A chuckle. "They were the only shoes I have that don't require two hands. Could I come over if I told you those and the cast were all I was wearing?" 

She arched both eyebrows. "And have you arrested for indecent exposure when you're pulled over for speeding? No way, partner. We'll keep your choice of at-home attire our little secret." She heard him cough. "That bad, hunh?" 

There was a thwump as he slammed the door. "Yeah. Armand's sound good to you?" 

She stuck out her tongue. "Too much cheese. Bertucci's?" She sat up. "Hey, don't, Mulder. Stay there and rest. You drove all the way back from Wheeling. I can fix something for myself." 

He exhaled a sigh of feigned offense. "You're cruel, Scully. You'd deprive an injured, lonely civil servant of the comforts of a home-cooked meal, when just moments before he was offering you pizza? Delivered?" 

Tucking the phone between her shoulder and chin, she rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Well, if microwaved frozen veggies and pasta are your idea of home-cooking..." 

"Nothing could be finer. See yah." He terminated the call. 

Setting the unit on the tile, she yawned. The water was soothing, relaxing. For a day or two at the hospital, she had suffered through sponge baths. But her partner's commentary about missing the free entertainment as he would be wheeled unceremoniously out of the room flustered the student nurses, so she began looking after herself sooner than she had wanted to. The showers ran cold in the first few minutes, making this her first real cleansing. She yawned again. _So warm._

\--o-0-o--

Dana Scully kicked her feet happily in the clear, sparkling water. She felt the sand beneath her fingers, then looked around in surprise. _Oh, no, not another one._ Behind her was a long line of men, women, and children, all waiting to speak with the occupant of a plain brown pyramidal tent under a curving palm. The fronds rustled as they swayed in the breezes that blew down from the hills. She had been dragging her bare feet through a thin stream that flowed out of those same hills, away from the setting sun. She ran her hands over her body, feeling the rough-hewn undyed travelling cloak that covered her long blue shift. _Well, at least I'm a woman this time, and at least I'm clothed._ At a tap on her shoulder, she turned.

A tanned man was bending over her, holding out his hand. "The Prophetess will see you now. Yours is a case for all Israel to hear." 

Using the support to help her stand, she bowed graciously. "I'm sorry, but, do I know you?" 

He smiled. "I doubt it. I'm probably the only man in Israel who's known as his wife's husband." Holding open the flap, he bowed to her. "Lappidoth, husband of Deborah, Judge of Israel." 

Scully crouched, then crawled through the opening. 

Within was a tiny woman, rounded by the years, clad in a simple white linen dress and worn sandals. Her hair was uncovered, but whiter than the cloth over her body. She nodded toward a low stool, just as high as the one she herself was occupying at the moment. "Have a seat, my dear." She smiled briefly, hoping to put her visitor at ease. "We don't all carry two-edged swords to slaughter Canaanite kings, you know." 

Lappidoth poked his head in again. "He's here." 

Another tanned man, also in white linen, crawled in beside Scully, but when she stood to offer him her stool, Deborah shook her head. "This Levite scribe is your witness, and mine." The round, wrinkled face bent forward, disappearing out of the circle of bright light formed by the hole in the top of the tent. Deborah lifted a scroll from among a pile at her feet. 

Settling a board across his lap, the scribe drew several characters from right to left across the top of the papyrus. "Whenever you're ready, Prophetess." 

Deborah pulled the edge of the scroll away until the roll was completely unwound. "You see, dear child, when Moshe and Aharon gave us the Law, they knew there would simply be no time to outline solutions for cases of this nature. So, I have been called to judge, and after prayer and consultation with the Levites and priests, this is what must be." 

The scribe's quill flew furiously over the ridged surface, pausing only for a tap, tap as he picked up more ink. He cleared his throat nervously. "Prophetess, please. The day grows late. While you honor Him with your eloquence, you tire you humble servant..."

Deborah laughed, a tinkling sound like the water that was evaporating from Scully's feet had made as it bubbled along. "Of course. To the point, as always." She set the scroll aside. "You have come to me after the loss of your Mother because your Father is dead, your older sister is dead, and your brothers are no more. Is that correct?" 

Scully nodded. "It is as you say, Ma'am." 

The judge's brown eyes sparkled. "The truth is written on your heart, blessed child; it shines through your face. You wish to know what will happen to your family's name and estate now that you are all alone." 

"Yes, Ma'am."

Deborah curled a bronzed hand around each knee, the fingernails cracked and split from age and the endless toil all women share. "If it were your father's estate that we were considering, the case would be simple. You, as the only heir, would inherit it all." She looked to the scribe, who nodded for her to continue. "But this is your mother's estate, left to her because she had no brothers and no uncles, no nephews and no male cousins. What shall become of it, you ask?" She clasped her hands together. "He is merciful and just, and He believes that as for the Father, so for the Mother. What is hers shall be yours. Go, my dear. So shall it be for all Israel." 

Scully licked her lips, tasting dust and sweat. "But, as I understand it, Ma'am, I am to marry within my own clan-" She frowned, sensing that somehow that was the wrong word. "-then pass it on to my sons when I die. But, Ma'am..."

Deborah sighed. "You can no longer have children?" 

Scully nodded. 

Deborah reached over to grasp her hand. "All you need is an heir, not necessarily a child. One of your own, clan." Her face wrinkled with delight at the choice of the word. 

The three turned when there as a shout from outside the tent. 

Deborah began to rise. "Now who could that be?"

\--o-0-o--

"Scully! You okay?"

She sat upright, water sloshing around the tub. "Yes. Just took a nap. I'm okay." Hoping to buy time until the throbbing in her side eased, she rested on the rim, calling out a further reassurance. "I'll be out in a minute." 

There was an explosion of breath from the other side of the door. "Yeah, sure. Sorry. Take your time." 

Patting herself dry, she queried. "Mulder?" 

"Yeah?" The normal tone of voice told her he was still hovering outside. 

"How long since we spoke last?" 

"About an hour. I waited for the pizzas. Why?" 

Her robe tied around her waist, she opened the bathroom door to arch both eyebrows at him. "There's something I need to tell you about." 

Anxious still, he scanned her face intently, then, when she lifted one corner of her mouth to send an all-clear, he leaned toward her. "Oooh, sharing your secrets with *me* now, Doctor?" 

She edged a bit closer. "Would there be anyone else?"

He studied his feet before he looked up, suddenly serious. "I hope not."

\--o-0-o--

X-Files Offices  
J. Edgar Hoover Building  
Washington, DC  
Friday, August 15, 1997  
8:12 am

Mulder and Scully had ensconced themselves in his large office, waiting for the red-haired agent they wished to question. She had settled into the old recliner to review her insurance claims, while Mulder was scribbling dollar amounts onto an expense sheet. 

Removing her wire-rimmed reading glasses, she checked the papers on her partner's desk. "You know, the Bureau has those forms computerized now. You can enter them in and let the program tally the expenses." 

He eyed the pages in her hand. "So what is that, Doctor? The Daily Racing Form?" 

She turned them so he could check the header on the front. "See? For once, the government is ahead of the eight ball." Letting the thick packet drop on the oak, she thumbed through his folder of notes. "You have the hospital charges in here?" 

"Agent Scully?" 

The partners looked over. Arthur Pendrell hovered nervously in the doorway between their shared offices. 

Scully waved him into the ladderback chair in front of the desk. "Thanks for stopping by, Arthur." 

Visibly relaxing, he crossed to room to sit. "How are you?" He looked first to Scully, then, after holding her gaze for several long moments, to Mulder. 

She walked around the desk to stand by his shoulder. "We're recovering. Thank you for your help on this last case." 

He fidgeted, checking Mulder's expression before he answered. "Oh, no problem. Finding the sickling data bases was a great change of pace." He licked his lips. "What's happening with, ah, the other, ah, thing?" He stared at them both until he felt certain they understood his meaning. "I haven't heard from Director Skinner in several days. Anything I can do to help..." 

Propping his feet up on his desk, Mulder chuckled. "Director Skinner mentioned that you had been of great assistance." 

Scully looked across the desk to her partner. "I guess he's clear." 

Mulder nodded, then dropped his feet to lean over the long top. "So, Pendrell, how's Phillips?" 

The technician reddened visibly. "Oh, ah, I haven't seen her in-" He considered, his forehead wrinkling into a frown. "-five days now? She was taking some time to visit her Mom." He stared out the window behind Mulder's head. 

Scully crossed her arms, winced, then dropped them. "But she's all right? No personality shifts you've noticed?" 

Pendrell grasped the sides of the seat. "Personality changes? What do you mean?" 

Since the cast was banging the arm of his desk chair, Mulder stood. "If the shape-shifters replace someone, they copy the form, but not all the memories. You can tell by little things, recent things usually, that are forgotten." 

The red-haired agent nodded. "Oh. I see. What does this have to do with 'the other'?" He looked from Scully to Mulder. 

She settled onto the edge of the recliner. "We think one of the shape-shifters was inside the Safe House, so we're checking everyone who was there to see if they've lost time, or someone around them has changed." 

Mulder continued, "How much did you tell Phillips?" 

Pendrell stood. "She was helping me on the case." He looked to Scully. "She's better than I am with the records. She knows where odd data are stored." 

The auburn-haired woman held up her hand. "That's fine. Any help we can get is greatly appreciated. If you can think of anyone else besides ourselves and you two who might know about the *other*, let us know, and we'll question them, too. Thanks." 

After a quick glance at Mulder, who nodded, Pendrell stepped out of the office, his pace increasing as he crossed the tiles. _Anyone else? Anywhere?_

\--o-0-o--

Townhouse  
Loudon County  
Friday, 6:12 pm

Arthur Pendrell rapped on the steel security door anxiously. Since meeting with Scully, he had been replaying the last discussion he and Terry had shared. _I hadn't known how poorly she and her Mother were getting along._ He stepped down into her flower bed, crushing thick little bushes of lemon-colored marigolds underfoot, to peer through her front window. 

The house was in disarray. The Shaker reproductions, of which she was so proud, were flung against the door. He recognized the four curved feet of her grandmother's embroidered stool protruding from the wide-screen TV case, curved green shards of glass flung outward across the spotless white carpet. 

His hands trembling, he inserted the smooth aluminum key she had presented him just two weeks earlier in the deadbolt, then had to throw all his weight on the door to shove the stack of walnut and cherry away. "Terry!" He rubbed his damp palms on his dress trousers, then sprinted through the living room to the bedroom, grasping the doorframe when he spotted the sleeping woman on the Laura Ashley bedspread. 

He gulped nervously. This was not the way he envisioned entering her bedroom for the first time, but his anxiety propelled him, so he hurried forward. Terry Phillips's breasts rose and fell in long, even breaths, her arm crossed over her stomach, holding down a summerweight blanket that covered her lower body. Bending over her, he reached for her cheek, appreciating the lovely way her hair curled around her face, now that she was growing it longer as he had asked. 

His breath caught. There were bruises on her neck, forearms, and wrists. When he peeled the blanket away, he saw that there were blackening patches on the insides of her thighs and calves. His first fear was of rape, but her shorts and polo shirt were whole and unbloodied, no more wrinkled and dirty than the crumbs of peat moss on her knees would account for. Whatever had happened to her had begun in her precious vegetable garden, her pride and joy. 

"Terry?" He cradled her cheek in his hand. "Terry?" 

Her long lashes fluttered. "Hum?" Pendrell smiled gently, feeling like they were in some old fairy tale. "Arthur?" She grimaced, then reached for his hand. "Are you here?" She flung herself up at him, hugging him, pulling him down off balance as she did so. 

He grunted, then braced himself with his arms on either side of her before sitting and holding the now-sobbing woman, tucked tightly against him. "Terry?" He rubbed her back, waiting for the sheer terror to subside. "It's okay, it's okay. You're safe." He bit his lip. _Are any of us, anymore?_

Once she had settled into sniffles and gulps, Pendrell felt safe in prying himself out of her tight grip to tip her face up by the chin. "What happened, Ter? You look like you've been through a fight." 

Rubbing her eyes, she nodded. "I thought it was the neighbor from up the street, you know, the one who tries to beat me to the first tomato?" She looked anxiously for his attention, so he mustered a smile. "But, he said he'd like to borrow one of my references on herbs, so I invited him inside. Once there, he..." She paused to bite her lip. "He..." 

Pendrell took her hand. "Changed?" 

She nodded. "How did you know?" 

He held her against him. "I was warned." He rubbed her back. "I need to call someone. I'll only be a minute."

\--o-0-o--

Mulder and Nichols were standing, hands in their pockets, in the center of Phillips' ruined living room.

Nichols looked up at his Section Head. "Sometimes I wonder whether letting these lab types call themselves agents is a good idea."

Tight-lipped, Mulder nodded. Scully and Rosen had been with the brown-haired woman and Pendrell for a good twenty minutes now. Both men turned when Scully stepped out to join them. 

She locked eyes with her partner for a moment, then she spoke to Nichols without breaking Mulder's gaze. "Rosen asked me to leave." She spread her hands helplessly. "I seemed to be making matters worse." 

Mulder stepped over the shattered spindles of a ladderback chair to stand beside her. "Did you get anything?" 

Rubbing her hands on her jeans, she shrugged. "It was a shape-shifter. She's been out since August Tenth, as nearly as we could tell." 

Nichols sighed. "Then they know nearly everything about our plans." He glanced at the bedroom door, waiting for his partner to step through it. "What's next, I wonder?" 

Mulder rubbed his face. "We regroup, develop cross-checking signals, try to work out..." 

Nichols took in the haggard faces of the partners. "Tomorrow, boss. Tomorrow. Tonight, no one stays alone, okay?" 

Rosen nodded. "They may be finished with us; they've certainly done enough damage with this. But, they may not be." 

Mulder ran his hand though his hair. "Yeah. There are too few of them to do this other than one on one. Rosen, Nichols, how do you feel about that?" 

The brunette agent grinned. "If Nic here doesn't mind the boxes in the living room, I have no problem with him using my sofa."

He shrugged. "Just like my place, Ros." 

They exchanged smirks.

Scully looked to Pendrell, who had just stepped out of the bedroom. "Arthur, do you think Phillips would be willing to stay with you for a few days?" 

The red-haired agent nodded. "I think that would help her a lot. She put up quite a struggle once she realized something was wrong." 

Scully patted his shoulder. "If you can convince her, get someone to check her over. She doesn't need to be walking around with something really broken or sprained." 

Sobered, the four agents took their leave, Pendrell standing by the smashed cherry secretary.

\--o-0-o--

End - Zurvan - Chapter II -The Plains of Edom


	3. Zion

\-----o-------------------------------------o-----

Chapter III - Zion 

\-----o-------------------------------------o----- 

Blessed by YHWH be his land,   
from the excellence of the heavens, from dew,   
from Ocean crouching below,   
from excellence of the sun's produce,   
from excellence of the moon's crop.   
And from the tops of the ancient hills,   
from the excellence of the age-old mountains,   
from the excellence of the land and its fullness,   
the favor of the Seneh-bush Dweller...   
So Israel will dwell in security,   
alone, the fountain of Yaakov,   
in a land of grain and new-wine;   
yes, his heavens drop down dew. 

Excerpts from "Final Matters" -   
"The Five Books of Moses"

\-----o-------------------------------------o------ 

Apartment 42   
Arlington, Virginia   
Friday, August 15, 1997   
11:14 pm 

At the sounds of rustling in the hallway, Mulder stiffened, casting about in his mind for the location of his weapon. Choosing to discern the nature of the threat before he armed himself, he checked through the spy-hole. He could just make out a figure pacing angrily outside the apartment door, the face aimed toward the end of the hall. But, his unbound shoulder slumped at the red curls that gleamed when illuminated by the dim lights in the corridor. _This is the last thing I need._ Turning the lock and knob soundlessly, he slipped out to approach Charles Scully, coming within five feet of his partner's brother before his aches forced him to lean against the wall. "This isn't necessarily the safest place to be, you know." 

Charlie spun, his momentary surprise at being caught off-guard only fueling his rage. "Oh, does that go for my sister's place, too?" 

Fearful that his partner had been attacked, two dark eyebrows drew together. "What do you know?" He let loose with a quiet, menacing growl. "If Scully..."

The ginger-haired officer shoved on the cast, visible under Mulder’s tight undershirt, then snarled impatiently at the resulting grimace. "Like you shouldn't have thought about her safety sooner, Jew?" 

The dark-haired man clenched his fists, then relaxed. _I wonder._ "So, how's the new kid? A girl, wasn't it?"

Charles stepped up into the tall agent's face. "A *boy*! A *boy*! Like my sister can never have, thanks to you!" 

Closing his eyes, Mulder's struggle to bring his temper under firm control was evident only in the repeated rippling of his cheek muscles. Finally, a deep breath before he licked his lips. "No one, and I mean no one, feels the responsibility for my partner's health problems resulting from her work with me more deeply than I do. Standing here, posturing for each other's benefit will do nothing, and I mean nothing, to alleviate them. Say what you came to say and leave." He waited. 

Charlie grabbed the arm held fixed by the cast. "Then what needs to be said will be said in front of her. Now!"

\--o-0-o--

Apartment 5  
Alexandria, Virginia  
Friday, 11:39 pm

Scully had just dropped her partner's pillow and blanket onto the couch when she heard the knock at the door. "Mulder?" 

"Scully, you'd better open up." 

Reading the warning in his tone, she trotted over to retrieve her SIG from her desk. "Okay, Mulder, I'm letting you in." _Whatever you've got planned, partner, you obviously didn't have time to prepare._ She turned back the deadbolt, allowing the man on the other side of the door push to it open. After her partner entered, she spun into the entrance, cocked weapon aimed at chest level.

Mulder turned, then smirked at the look on her brother's face. "I told you she was a better agent than I am." 

Scully kept the SIG against the sternum of the second man, who had lifted both hands. "Is he Charlie?" 

Mulder brushed her back at her waist with his fingertips. "As nearly as I can tell." 

Only then did she engage the safety, sweeping the handgun toward the floorboards instinctively. "Come on in. We have to be more careful these days."

Charlie glared at the dark-haired agent. "I wonder why." The red-haired man shoved his hands in his pockets, waiting while she closed, then locked, the door. "Dana, your partner has something to show you." 

Scully looked Mulder over carefully, noticing the brown leather strap over his immobilized shoulder. "What?" 

He held the satchel out for her. "Whatever it was your Father gave to Bill." 

The auburn-haired pathologist snatched the parcel away, hurrying to the couch to dump the contents on her white coffeetable. A green ledger book, along with several brown folders, cascaded onto the wood. "These are the records of the phone conversations?" She thumbed through a few pages, then looked up at her brother, who was standing on the far side of the living room. "Why are you giving these to me?" 

Charlie shrugged. "I couldn't take it anymore, Dana." 

She and Mulder exchanged a glance. "Couldn't take what?" 

The freckled officer waved his hand repeatedly between himself and the woman on the sofa. "This rift between us. Bill isn't aware I'm here, he just knows I have those. He wouldn't be too happy with what I'm doing." 

Already lost in the contents, Scully nodded absently.

From his position behind the couch, Mulder touched her shoulder. 

The auburn-haired agent raised her eyes to her brother's face. "Charles. Thanks." She glanced at the door. "You aren't planning on driving back to Norfolk tonight, are you? Use the guest bedroom." She rolled her eyes toward her partner. "He won't." 

Suddenly enraged, Charles glared at the tall man. "And exactly what is *he* doing here tonight? Hum?" Before either could react, he collected the documents, then shoved them back in the case. "Far be it from me to lecture my liberated sister on her lifestyle. Just don't make Mel's mistakes." 

Mulder stepped between Charles and the door. "This is a security measure for the case we're - "

His fist aimed under the cast, the red-haired officer shoved him aside. "Yeah. It's all related to your cases. Right." 

Mulder staggered backwards, gasping. 

Scully threw herself over the couch, attempting to land her brother with a flying tackle, but his hands blocked her at her ribs. She found herself rolling helplessly on the floor, her arms wrapped around her side. "Mulder," she managed to pant out, "don't let him out of here. We need - " 

Her words were terminated by Charlie slamming the door. 

Using the back of the couch as a support, Mulder pulled himself to his feet, staggering out into the hall. 

Scully heard a brief scuffle, then a loud thud, followed by a grunt. She crawled out just as Charlie landed his fist on her partner’s jaw, while the agent was slumped, dazed, against the plaster. Her ribs still radiating waves of pain, she was reduced to shouting in frustration as Charlie stalked through the outside entrance, satchel firmly gripped. "It isn't what you think!" 

Mulder eased himself to his feet, keeping one hand on the wall as he moved back to her doorway. "Scully?"

She had rolled over into a sitting position. "I'm okay." She found her feet just as he reached her side. "At least, there's nothing new broken." She looked up at him. "You didn't, by any chance, get any more of a peek at the contents than I did?" 

Rubbing his jaw, he shook his head. "Nope. He sat on the bag all the way over and only handed it to me just before the door opened. He kept arguing with himself as to whether he would give it to you." Latching the lock behind him, he looked over at her, where she was now resting on the edge of the couch. "You?" 

She shook her head. "Not enough to make a difference." 

He ran his hand through his hair as he dropped down beside her. "Looks like no Golden plates and spectacles this time." He reached over to probe her side gently. “This didn’t set you back, did it?” His dark eyebrows were set in an anxious cant. 

Suppressing a grimace at his ministrations allowed a tiny grunt to escape her. "Oh, and here I thought you were going to tell me Moroni was an alien."

He bit his lip, then attempted a weak come-back to let her know he appreciated her efforts at black humor. "Ooh, tell me, Doctor, what was your first clue?"

\--o-0-o--

ha-Kotel ha Ma'aravi  
Old City, Jerusalem  
Saturday, August 16, 1997  
8:27 am

Caroline Lowenberg and Margaret Scully were side by side, bending out as far as each could stretch over the low stone wall. They, along with a throng of other visitors, were standing on a landing halfway up from the Kotel plaza itself. The ground stretching below and before them was an ancient Axis Mundi, holy in three major religions. To their left, a Baptist church group from Mississippi was snapping photos, the numerous, boisterous children wearing neon-colored T-shirts and bright shorts. To their right, a solemn group of Hasidic women in their long-sleeved, long-skirted black dresses was praying quietly. Their faces shaded by broad-brimmed black straw hats, they watched a thin line of men cross the plaza beneath to the pock-marked wall on the far side. One of the Hasidic girls, seeing the American children playing behind her, began to fidget, but stopped at a soft word from her mother, who took the tiny hand gently. 

When the slender woman directed her daughter's attention back to the black-clad men in prayer shawls below, Margaret turned to Caroline. "You really never learned Hebrew?" 

Understanding the reason for the sudden question, Caroline shrugged. "It's a different dialect from what I heard spoken." Shading her eyes, she scanned the crowd for Max, then faced the dark-haired woman. "In my family, Margaret, it was considered more important that I learn the languages of the," she explained as a shadow passed over her face, "goyim, than Hebrew." She grasped the front edge of the stone. "We all tried to assimilate, in our own ways." She shook her head. "Even if Hebrew had been taught, it wouldn't have been to me. It would have been to Isaac." 

Margaret attempted to deconstruct the information in this new tidbit. "But, the nuns taught us Latin, why not - " 

Caroline cut through the air with her left hand, terminating the discussion with the gesture. "Times were different then. Today we have women rabbis, feminist services. Things are better, in that regard. Ah, I see Max." She pointed to a distant stick figure, bowing repeatedly by the wall. 

Margaret recognized him only by the distinctive black border that ran around all four edges of his prayer shawl. She smiled. "I wonder what he's thinking right now?" 

Caroline blew out a long breath. "At least this was easier for him than visiting the camp. He slept some last night." 

Margaret felt her heart sink. "I never..." She shook her head. "You've both been so kind..." 

Caroline faced her friend again. "Nonsense, we've loved having you with us." She smiled, an uneven grin that Margaret recognized all too well. "You've saved me from endless debates about water treatments plants on the back deck." Caroline tucked Margaret's hand through her arm. "You have no idea how tired I was of multilingual discussions on the virtues of reverse osmosis." The white-haired woman pointed toward the steps to the ground. "Shall we?"

\--o-0-o--

On the plaza, Max had turned from the stones, his prayers finished. The middle-aged accountant from Albuquerque who had been waiting behind him immediately moved into his place. Once well away from the lines of worshippers, he began unwinding the tephalim from his arms.

"Maximillian David Lowenberg?" The question came from a short, balding American, his puffy face beaded with sweat.

The inquiry caught the white-haired man off-guard. Max succumbed to a moment's hesitation before old instincts kicked in, setting him hurrying toward the far wall. Several officers from the new mixed Israeli-Palestinian police force lounged there, rifles resting against the newer, Israeli-laid limestone. 

The call was repeated, louder, more urgently. 

The white mustache drawn into a thin, straight line, Max forced himself to be calm, but his mind was racing with all the dangers into which he had thrust himself. The voice might belong to an agent of one of those whose art works had been repossessed, sent to even an old score. Or, he, as a prominent Jewish-American attorney, might have found himself a target of any number of factions, looking to use him to fuel ancient animosities. The last thing he wanted was to for the two women with him to be caught up in this. When Caroline approached, her arm now tucked in Margaret's, he waved her away. 

A quick nod from the white-haired woman, then she guided Margaret back up the approach to the landing. 

One of the Israeli guards, spotting the commotion, hoisted his rifle, then gestured to three of his compatriots to follow him. _On the Sabbath and around Av, too. This is all we need._ He shouted for order in Hebrew. 

Max felt himself relaxing. _Good, then perhaps I can slip away._ But, a hand landed on his shoulder, so he identified himself quickly, then switched to English, hoping the young man with black curls and smooth brown cheeks could follow him. "I don't know him." He pointed at the man in the black, western-style suit whom two of the guards had in tow, while a third lifted free the hand- gun tucked in his belt. 

The soldier's eyes fell on the tattooed numbers, so he nodded. "Thank you. Where are you staying?" 

Max relayed the details to him, thinking, all the while, how much this young soldier looked like any one of a number of men he remembered from his last visit to this place. He offered a slight smile, then continued. "As soon as we have clearance, we'll be visiting Kibbutzim in the Bet She'an area. We may see you again?" 

The soldier shook his head. "No. I'm on duty here for the next few months. We're thinking it will only get worse between now and Rosh." 

Slipping the prayer shawl over his head to fold reverently, Max sighed. "I really must go, my wife and a friend are waiting."

The young man parted a way for Max through the crowd.

\--o-0-o--

Max spotted Caroline, who was pacing, deeply worried, when he approached her. "I'm alright, Dearest." He pulled her into a quick hug.

Margaret clutched the shoulder strap of her purse with both hands. "Do you have any idea what was happening?" 

Max rubbed his cheek. "None at all. The man following me was armed, but at this point, I can't begin to fathom what his intentions were. We'll have to check with the local police if we want to know anything more."

\--o-0-o--

King David Hotel, Jerusalem  
Saturday, 10:07 am

Max rolled the prayer shawl up in tissue paper while Caroline watched. "That encounter at the Kotel is troubling, Line-chen. At first, I thought I was seeing a holographic projection before I realized it was an actual person."

She had crossed her arms. "So, you really don't know what that was all about?" 

He straightened. "No. I wasn't just saying that for Margaret's benefit. I did make some enemies while I was in Bolivia, but I've since watched most of them on trial, here and in Europe. I hardly see them as a threat."

She dropped onto the mattress, rubbing her palms together nervously. "Then it might be something to do with Sam." 

Bending over his wife, Max held both her hands. "That it might. Or, it might have nothing at all to do with why we're here, Dear Heart." 

"Mister Lowenberg?" The voice was muffled by the wood. 

Max closed his eyes. "Yes?" Neither wanted to open the door until their visitor was identified. 

"Sir? It's the Manager." 

Max unlocked the door. "Yes?" 

The young man without held a thick white envelope, fingering it nervously. "I was asked to deliver this to you personally. It's from the Ministry." 

Caroline stepped forward to take the packet, ripping it open hastily to tug loose the contents. "Ah. We're cleared to go ahead to the Kibbutzim." 

Misreading the cause of Caroline's concern, the manager cleared his throat. "Is there a problem with your room?"

Max shook his head. "No, not at all. Thank you." After he closed the door, a page fell from the bundle unto the carpet, so he bent to retrieve it. After scanning the sheet, he crumpled the paper up, then threw it against the wall. 

Caroline looked up from the documents. "Max?" 

He sighed. "Whoever it was is still attempting to contact me." 

After setting the government forms on the narrow desk, she unfolded the sheet to read the words. "This is serious." She slipped off her tortoiseshell-framed reading glasses, letting them dangle from the chain around her neck. "We should contact Mossad, see what this means." 

Rubbing his face, Max dropped onto the edge of the bed. "Yes, I suppose we have to. Poor Maudie. This must all be a bit much for her." 

Caroline returned to reading the forms. "Oh, she's stronger than you think, Max." She ran her finger under a name. "It was a David Mickelhaus who was handling these. We can call him."

\--o-0-o--

Capital Hill Rowhouse  
Washington, DC  
Saturday, 6:12 am

Lindhauer grunted when he heard the banging on the door. _What now?_ Rolling off the mattress, he adjusted his gym shorts, then headed for the entrance. Through the glass, he could make out three figures, two slender, one rotund, one female, two male. He pulled the barrier away. "What is it? What's wrong?"

McConnell marched through ahead of the others. "How could you do this? Is she still up there?" 

It took a few moments for the blond man to grasp his meaning, then he decided to prevaricate. "What do you mean?" 

'Ace' had her arms crossed. "That FBI secretary, Cynthia Mulholland. Is she still up there?"

Lindhauer rubbed his chin, the softer stubble bending under his fingers. "Oh. You know?" 

'Charlie' pushed Lindhauer down on the sofa. "Black Lung told us." 

The long-faced, sharp-nosed man grunted. "Well, are you the only ones entitled to a little happiness?" He eyed 'Ace', who had taken a seat beside him, meaningfully. 

McConnell bent to poke him in the chest. "Don't change the subject. We're not here to discuss them. We're here to talk about you." 

Their tall leader rose. "Well, in that case, tell me who took it upon themselves to decide to charge X with those murders? We *used* to approve things as a group." 

The three exchanged long, sober stares. 

"Oh, was that a problem for you Perikleans?" The Smoking Man stepped though the open doorway. 

'Charlie' whirled. "You! But you always taught that to deny the existence of the Organization was to protect it!" 

Eying the programmer gently, the old spy offered his smile-grimace. "I'm only improving on Amanda's excellent proposal." 

'Ace' crossed her arms. "Most of the time, I could see the logic behind what you wanted to do, but this baffles me." 

Both grey eyebrows arched. "Ah. Not as well versed in our Renaissance political history as we ought to be, I see." He tapped the side of his cigarette, sending ash fluttering onto the hardwood floor of the foyer. "Well, protecting the Organization was exactly what I am doing." He checked the incredulity on their faces. "For one, I've already picked the US Attorney who will be handling the prosecution. He’s a good old-style law and order type, who remember the days before King. Also, we don't try the cases here in DC. The media are far too independent. We shift the venue to somewhere, more remote. Somewhere the amenities are not what they are here." 

McConnell nodded. "Damage control." 

A single puff. "More than that. Misdirection and obfuscation." 

'Ace' stepped forward. "Do they have an attorney yet?" 

The old man nodded. "One Jarred Stone. Formerly a prosecutor, and a good one. But, his wife has expensive tastes," he explained, bowing slightly at the waist toward 'Ace,' "unlike your eminently sensible self, which gives us a bit of leverage." 

The four listened carefully while he outlined his plan. _Little do you know what I have in mind for all of you!_

\--o-0-o--

Dockside warehouse  
Charleston, South Carolina  
Saturday, 12:57 pm

Two brown-haired women were seated across a folding table from the aliens who had passed themselves off as Luther and Aurora. They were waiting, had been idle here for several hours. 

The identical woman on the right spoke first. "Could anything have happened to him? He knew this was the meeting place." 

His shoulders hunched, 'Luther' whispered, "Pilot has survived far worse assignments. He is merely delayed." 

"He is not delayed at all." The square-jawed man spoke from the doorway. "He was out uncovering more information for our use." A stack of blueprints landed with a thud on the particle board top. "These are the plans of the newest nanotechnology facility in France. They are still woefully lacking for our purposes." 

The beads and bangles on Aurora's arm clicked as it cut through the air. "Then we must abandon our escape efforts. We must work toward further assimilation." 

Pilot smashed his fist on top of the sheets. "What is it with you Thinkers! This *rock* is torment to me!" He frowned impatiently at the cowering engineer. "We must devise an alternate design that will allow us to return home!" 

The dark-haired woman on the far end of the table shrugged. "We have no wish to return to a world where your party rules. The simians can be guided, redirected to the considerable task of planetary recovery. It is your mission, and ours, regardless of our difference in approach." She set a vial of pinkish fluid on the table. "This will help us toward those goals."

Aurora leaned forward. "These are the control drugs?" 

The dark-haired woman nodded. "Distilled and intensified." 

From his crouch, Luther whimpered, "Worthies, we are so few. Should we not be taking measures to insure our continued survival? After what happened to your exalted selves, can any of us be safe?" 

The dark-haired woman on the right nodded. "Well spoken, Engineer." She favored him with a touch on the forehead. "It is good not to forget this most practical of concerns. What do you suggest?" 

He glanced up at Pilot, who, with his arms crossed, was looking down at them all with an air of disdain. At a second blessing gesture, he straightened. "There are all the facilities we need, with stockpiles of materials, prototypes, and knowledge. Only not here. Somewhere secret." 

Aurora nodded. "Somewhere you know about from your time as the other?" 

He spoke in normal, confident tones, abandoning the simper he had used until now. "We go to 'their' repository, their caches of useful technology." 

The dark-haired woman on the left shook her head. "Why? We have already begun the manufacture of what we need for protective coatings here." She waved at the vats behind Engineer. "Why abandon all that work?" 

Luther shuddered again, losing form for a moment in his discomfort. "But, such materials are already there, already assembled. Any process close to maturity has already been conserved there. If we go now, while *they* are divided, we may be able to take it for ourselves." 

Pilot bent over him, growling the question in his ear, "And where is this fabled repository?" 

Luther clenched his fists. "Not here. Not in what the simians call their First World. Too expensive. In Africa." 

The dark-haired woman on the left sighed. "Ah. They pollute their own origin place." She nodded to her twin. "I concur. Engineer shows us the way, even as we argue pointless stratagems that can never be implemented." She reached out to extend her blessing, while Aurora signaled her assent with a click, then a hiss. 

Only Pilot remained unmoved, holding his objections for a better time. "I bow to your ancient and collective wisdom." The acquiescence escaped through clenched teeth.

\--o-0-o--

Safe House  
outside Charleston, South Carolina  
Sunday, August 17, 1997  
9:42 am

Jarred Stone closed the folder in front of him, lifted his gaze over his reading glasses to study the agents assembled in clumps around the room. Walter Skinner was farthest from him on a leather two-seater, reviewing transcripts of taped testimony. The bald Director, his eyes softly focused, listened through a pair of sport headphones while his red pen ran over the printed words in the notebook on his lap. 

Stone rolled his eyes to the left. His old friend Mulder had shifted further off the right side of the stool he claimed was most comfortable, reaching toward his auburn-haired partner. Although they were both working on the same side of the small table, piled high with papers, she had turned away from him, easing her ribs clear of the unyielding metal back. At his touch, she rotated, her eyes following as he ran one finger under a line in his report. At some lighthearted comment Mulder whispered, only for her ears, her face lifted out of its stiff mask of serious contemplation. She tossed back a look that was part acknowledgement, part exasperation, part directed, intense focus. Only a momentary diversion before she returned to her analysis, but the reflected warmth faded slowly from the dark-haired agent's face. 

_Good to see you have one friend in the world, Fox._ Stone shook his head, reminding himself, again, to respect the profiler's choice to go by his last name when he spoke with him. _With women still naming their baby boys 'Ashley' back home in Mississippi, 'Fox' would seem commonplace, ordinary, not worth teasing a child about. Northerners have no common courtesy for each other's feelings, no sense of decency that told a man when to leave a thing alone._

The attorney eyed the remaining partners, seated on his right. The brunette, Rosen, all lean, corded muscles, her thumb separating the pages, was passing a folder to the older agent. Opening at the spot she indicated, Nichols smoothed his mustache as he read, then raised his eyes to meet his partner's. She had been watching for the moment when he would recognize what she had considered significant, either verifying or refocusing her suspicions. A nod, the papers were returned, then the agents went on with their work. 

Stone pondered this pair. Nichols, he could size up, categorize. The battering of his years on the street had ground his nerves down to an unwanted sensitivity, so he no longer looked forward to the hunt, to living on the edge. Stone, when a prosecutor, had seen it often enough with officers and agents at this age. They found themselves changed, not hungering for the spotlight of the 'big drug bust', but seeking a purpose to their lives that had somehow eluded them. 

Rosen, though, he couldn't place. A truth-seeker, like him, someone who wanted to reduce life to its essence, but who used a different set of tools from the thrust and parry of the courtroom to find it. He wondered if she helped Nichols fill his 'significance' gap, showing him how to look at the world through her different perspective. He certainly hoped so, knowing what finding Elizabeth had done for him.

The moment of reflection passing, Stone cleared his throat, bringing five faces around to study his. He unfolded his long frame from the chair, walking around his desk to lean against it. "Good people, I'm guessing you folks have only ever engaged in this little exercise from the opposite bench." He checked for confirmation. Skinner was waiting, still unwilling to commit completely to their efforts. _One I'll have to win over, looks like._ A shadow passed over Mulder's long face, the past claiming him yet again. Scully leaned toward her partner, an imperceptible shift, unnoticed if not expected, as Stone did. Nichols assumed a wariness that told the attorney just how often he *had* claimed one of those stiff seats. Rosen waited, alert, tensed to embark on what he suspected was a new enterprise for her. 

Mulder leaned forward. "What do you want us to do for this?" 

Stone shifted to stand on his own. _Direct, as always._ "I need to know more about the people behind these charges. If secrecy is their watchword, why would they be attempting this? Why risk exposure?" 

Skinner set his jaw. 

Mulder shifted slightly. "They want to control what is revealed, Jarred, to only have released what would damage them least, or not at all." 

Stone held out a long hand, palm vertical. "I don't mean that, Mulder. On this side, we don't worry so much about the facts as we do the personalities. We only need to cast doubt, not build a case. What are their weaknesses? What can we exploit?" 

After a quick glance at her partner, Scully lifted two folders off the pile. "There's been a shift in leadership of the Group. The two men we know of are both Senatorial staffers." She thumbed through the pages, then looked over at Rosen. "Do you have the dossier on McConnell?" 

The brunette grasped the sheaf she had just shown her partner. "Yes. Right here." She briefly rattled off the facts on 'Andrew.' 

Stone nodded. "Ah. Probably fancies himself something of a peacemaker. If he was a Preacher's son who didn't follow Daddy into the pulpit, he tries to lead what he considers a moral life." He spread his hands to emphasize the thought. "Within a group of men, that means peacemaker. Since I've seen these types many a time, he also will not be a risk-taker. He will have sown his wild oats as a teenager, maybe have gotten a girl in trouble, then seen the error of his ways. It may tie back into his choice of profession, seeing as how he chose economics. He can sit back, God-like, and control the fate of millions, or thinks he can." The soft hazel eyes focused on Mulder. "You with me there, Muldah?" 

The dark-haired agent nodded. "Like Patterson trained you himself. As for their leader-" He took the folder from Scully's hands, cocking his head at the tick that he knew would have been a scowl. "-Gilbert Lindhauer, we have the exact opposite. First in his class at Harvard Business School." He deferred to Stone's regional heritage in his choice of words. "Cocky as any old Wall Street trader. He walked right into Matheson's office and asked for a job, according to Danny." 

Stone rubbed his chin, his long fingers leaving the greying beard in swirls. "This is *your* Senator, Muldah?" 

Skinner dropped the transcript on the vinyl beside him. "Matheson knows. He's stringing him along, though, pretending he doesn't." 

Nichols glanced at Rosen, who had been listening, wide-eyed. "Ros? You got something in there you want to share with the rest of us?" 

She crossed her arms. "I think the Gunmen's Lady Lovelace is one of these leaders of yours, or works very closely with them." 

Under Mulder's concerned eyes, Scully twisted her spine gently, relieving the pressure on her ribs. "Oh?" 

Walking around her table, Rosen stood in front of Stone. "I've been reviewing the reports from the cases the X-Files section has taken on since the Coup. It's the timing that matters, more than anything else. After every one of the break-ins, there would be a reaction to either Mulder's and Scully's, or our, actions." 

Mulder nodded. "You have a profile worked up on him?" 

She shrugged. "Not yet. I don't have the experience to throw one together like you guys do." 

Mulder responded in the deep level tone that he used when speaking as Section Head. "Okay. After this, we work something up together, all four of us. The Doctor here might see a pattern in how the software works." 

Skinner slung himself off the couch, taking a moment to compose himself. "I don't think it's any of these we know or don't know about who should concern us. It's Mister Morley you four should be profiling."

Stone noted the ripple of contempt that ran down Skinner's cheek. "Who's Mister Morley?" 

Scully clenched her fists. "Sir, we have no evidence that he's behind any of this. The last we knew, he was on the outs with the Consortium." 

Skinner rested his palms on the table to stare down at her. "By now, you can bet he's figured out some scheme to get back into the fold." He rapped his knuckles on the wood. "He's your mastermind, make no mistake." He pointed at the folders contemptuously. "These are significant, no doubt, but never, as long as he's alive, count him out of your plans." 

Nichols stood by the Director's elbow. "Why don't you share with the rest of us what you know, Walt?" 

Stone loped back around the desk, propping both feet up on the oak top after he sat. "Ah concur. If we have someone as wily as you seem to think he is on the other side, he should be our chief concern." He interlaced his fingers on his stomach, his thumbs idly rocking a button on his vest. "If you wouldn't mind swapping a few tales, that is." 

Peeling off his wire-rims, Skinner nodded. "It's time you knew what I do about your Father's old friend, Mulder."

\--o-0-o--

Safe House  
Charleston, South Carolina  
Monday, August 18, 1997  
5:21 am

Still in his gym shorts and T-shirt, Mulder padded barefoot into the kitchen, which was all gleaming stainless steel fixtures and bright white walls. Glancing over at the enameled steel table in the center of the room, he was surprised to discover he was not alone. The brunette curls on the head resting atop a crossed pair of arms told him who the other agent was, while the pages strewn across the surface told him that Rosen had been up most of the night. 

One glance at the ruled yellow legal pad under her cheek had him shaking his head. _She didn't have to do that._ Reaching across the table, he tapped her shoulder gently. "Rosen?" 

She jerked, then rubbed reddened and shadowed eyes. "Hello, Mulder." She self-consciously gathered the papers together. 

He slid the notes away from her, smiling as he read the list of characteristics running down the page. 

Rosen slumped down in her seat. "I really wish you wouldn't look at that. It's not at all ready for anyone else to see." 

After transferring the packet to his right hand, which was still bound in place by the cast, he rolled the wheeled metal-framed chair away from the table, then sank into it. When the cold plastic on the seat hit his bare thighs, he hissed, then set the papers back on the table. "Why not?" He gazed over at her. "You've assembled an accurate and complete listing of what we know. Where else would you start?" 

Crossing her arms, she nearly disappeared beneath the table. "That's just the problem. I can't figure out where to go from here." A pair of anxious hazel eyes met his slightly amused ones. "I can't do those leaps like you. I have to work things out, step by step." 

Mulder leaned forward slightly, the cast preventing him from settling into his full conspiratorial hunch. "Rosen, I'll let you in on a little secret. Those 'leaps' of mine that seem to mystify everyone always came after someone else had done exactly what you've done here." He riffled the sheets in the pad. "Back in BS, Patterson always emphasized careful compilation of evidence, just like you were taught at the Academy. Other agents would work on cases for years, assembling little insignificant facts from crime scenes, getting all wrapped up in specific numbers of turns on the threads in a scrap of cloth." He shook his head. "They'd see the trees, the individual leaves on the branches even, then never realize that there was another case where the same fabric showed up." He raised his eyes to hers. "That was my skill, remembering those other cases. I never actually led up an investigation, I was just moved from group to group like a hired gun."

Rosen slid until she was upright on the black plastic. "But, with the databases all interlinked now, it isn't like the profiler has to work from memory." 

Mulder nodded. "Within the Bureau, no. But there are so many old case histories still on paper only that it pays to read carefully." 

"Or interview the older detectives." Nichols spoke from the doorway, then approached his partner. "Scully was looking for you, she wanted someone to blade with." He settled into the chair by her side, his jeans squeaking on the plastic. "So, you let the legend of Spooky," he joked as he flicked his gaze to the dark-haired agent, "spook you." 

She reclaimed her pad, hugging it to her chest. "Yes, I guess I did." 

Nichols smiled openly at her. "Don't forget the UNABomber case. The profiling team picked up a vital clue from a retired detective who remembered a similar bomb casing from several years earlier."

Mulder shifted one of her diagrams to read it more easily. "I hated profiling, Rosen."

The partners blinked, astonished at the revelation. 

Rosen gasped at her sudden realization. "You wanted to see a case from start to finish." 

The dark-haired agent nodded. "Yeah. Those teams that worked together for years developed a real rapport with each other, then I'd be brought in like some Mister Wizard. They hated me, and Patterson knew it." He shifted. "He used it, too." 

"Then why don't we make some coffee and get started?" Scully had been listening quietly in the doorway. 

Nichols nodded. "Sure." He grasped his partner's shoulder. "Start wowing us with your listing there, kid." 

The brunette agent grinned. "If there's one impression I take away about this person, it's that he's extremely organized, but very pressed for time." 

Scully sat by her partner. "What makes you say that?" 

Rosen tapped a thick fan-folded printout. "Langly kept records of when the break-ins occurred, and what was checked. This Lady Lovelace was only accessing their computers early in the morning, or in the evenings." 

Orange bag of beans in hand, Nichols shut the refrigerator door. "He, or she, has another job." 

Scully frowned. "Why do you say she? I thought programmers were largely men." 

Mulder grinned over his shoulder at the older agent. "These two. They think they're the only exceptions to the rules." 

Scully tossed her head. "Okay, it might be one of that minority percentage." She turned back at Rosen. "You say pressed for time. Why?" 

Rosen shrugged. "Moreso now than before. LL has begun accessing directories previously tapped, as if he, or she, is rerunning old programs." 

Dark stubble itching, Mulder rubbed his face. "Or LL is checking to see if new data have come in."

Rosen shook her head. "No. These are commercial directories LL is accessing, off the shelf codes." 

Scully pressed her hand against her ribs. "It could be a calibration routine."

Mulder glanced down at her side. "Like LL is testing out new algorithms? Byers will be insulted to hear that." 

Nichols, who had been smoothing his mustache, frowned. "No, it makes perfect sense. The Gunmen keep changing their security measures. It's as if LL is testing to break in on them before tunneling into somewhere larger, more important." 

Mulder grunted. "I'm *really* not going to pass *that* observation along, Nichols." 

Scully rolled her eyes. "He's right, Mulder. The Gunmen don't keep secrets, they publish them, generally as fast as they turn up. So, we need to think about what the Consortium would want to break into, covertly, to understand who this LL might be." 

Rosen, who had been chewing on her thumbnail, winced as she rubbed a raw spot at one edge. "It won't be anything in the US Government. With this Lindhauer on Matheson's staff, and McConnell on Randall's, they can get anyplace they want to go. So, that leaves foreign governments, or something like Wall Street." 

Scully, dressed in her lycra shorts and a thin jersey, shivered in the air conditioning. "They were recruiting replacements for their captive support troops, so it's possible they were after foreign secrets." She crossed her arms. "It makes you wonder about what the shape-shifters wanted with Africa." 

Mulder bent toward his partner. "No, I don't think so, Scully. While Africa enters into this puzzle somehow, the governments there couldn't afford to erect extensive barriers to hacking. Besides, what would they..." He jumped to his feet. "Money! It's about the money. They're trying to break into the banking networks. Matheson's been trying to squeeze off their funding sources. Where else could they go?" 

Rosen glanced up at her Section Head. "It'd have to be a real whiz of a programmer to do that." 

Scully moved her in-line skates from the table to the white tile floor. "Or a collective. That's how the banking codes were broken just this past month." 

Mulder was circling the table now, bouncing slightly as he walked. "We know this person, this LL, otherwise he wouldn't think to use the Gunmen to test." 

Nichols nodded. "It's someone who's methodical, careful, either a scientist you've contacted in the past, or someone in the Bureau." 

Scully arched a brow. "Not Susan Miles. She's not remotely capable of pulling something like this off." 

Mulder came to a complete halt. "Amanda Edwards." 

Rosen looked over. "The computer guru of the Sixth Floor? Why her?" 

Scully pushed herself to her feet. "Back at your Mother's wedding party, the old man said one of them was someone who worked at the Bureau. She's been in and out of all our computers since we moved out of the Basement. But wasn't she in the hospital a few months back?" 

Nichols sent Rosen a frustrated glance. "What? Who is this?"

Mulder waved his unbound hand. "We went through our Quantico training together. Back when I was in BS, she would sometimes help me dig up facts on cases, before I found Danny." He was through the doorway before he turned. "I'm calling Cynthia. She needs to know not to let Amanda into our systems ever again, and to pull our machines off the network immediately." He was muttering under his breath as he disappeared down the hall.

Nichols looked over at Scully. "So much for your run." 

The auburn-haired agent shrugged as she grasped her skates, then took off after her partner. "I think I'll be getting all the exercise I need in the next few days." 

When Nichols checked his partner, she was chewing her nail again. His lips set in what he hoped was a reassuring grin. "I won't let Janie get away with that, so I shouldn't let you." 

Rosen was staring into the hallway. "Why do I feel like there's a whole level to this Group that we're just now uncovering?"

Nichols rose. "Because we are." He touched her shoulder. "Good job, Ros. I said you had the makings of a good Agent back in Canada, remember?" 

She looked up. "Thanks. I think. I don't like where this is going, though." 

Sobered, he shook his head. "Neither do I."

\--o-0-o--

Rowhouse  
Capitol Hill  
Washington, DC  
Monday, 6:03 am

Lindhauer propped himself up on his elbow, studying the face of the woman in bed beside him. "Why'd he call so early?" He tugged her over next to his side. "He's not coming back so soon, is he?" 

Cynthia, lying supine, her cell phone nestled between her breasts, looked up at her handsome blond lover. "No." 

He moved the black unit from her chest to the side-table. "Then, what's wrong? You seem so serious." He crouched above her, lowering his lips to hers. 

The brunette wiggled out from underneath him, reaching for her robe at the foot of the bed. "I need to get to work, right away." 

He wrapped his arms around her from behind, coiling both his legs under hers. "But you were taking the day off. With Congress out of session now, I can spend some time with you." 

Suddenly feeling very exposed, she hugged the flannel to her chest, letting it drape over her legs. "No, Gil, this is important. Someone may be hacking into the Section's computers across the Net." Wiggling free again, she pulled the robe hastily around herself, gathering her clothes from the floor before she sprinted for the bathroom. 

Lindhauer paused long enough to tug on a pair of grey cotton boxers. "Cynthia!" He banged on the bathroom door. "Cynthia! Open up!" When he heard the latch turn, he stepped back, holding out both arms. "Baby, what's wrong?" 

Fully dressed, she pushed past him. "Like I said. I have to go into the Bureau today." While he pulled on his jeans, she was checking though her backpack for a comb. "It won't be for long." She glanced at the grandfather clock at the top of the stairs. "Metro's open now, so I can be back here in less than an hour." After stepping into the flat pumps she had worn the night before, she was running for the stairs, but he caught her arm just as she reached the landing. 

Pulling Cynthia around to face him, Lindhauer found he was having to force himself to be gentle with her. He was tiring of that squeaky giggle of hers which had charmed him so just a month ago. "Take me with you." Even though he had managed to keep his voice flat, he caught her hesitation, the fear that rose to flush her face for just an instant.

Shaking her head, Cynthia went rigid. "No, it's no problem." After hopping up to peck him on the lips, she charged down the stairs, then out the door, running through a mental inventory of her belongings left behind. _The robe, no problem. I can buy another one. The books, I can replace. The phone's expensive, but I can always report it lost to the communications department and get another. There's nothing I need to go back there for._ Once down the street, with suited, briefcase-bearing civil servants around her, she shivered. _I never want to go back there again._

Lindhauer had watched her disappear up East Capitol Street. _She knows._ He crossed his arms, wondering where he could turn now, how he could remove this unforeseen problem. McConnell and the others would gloat, but they could work something out. _Or could they?_ He knew he needed to at least warn 'Ace' that her cover might have been blown, that she should consider leaving the Bureau. _It's not like she couldn't be more useful working on questions of significance to the Organization, rather than wasting her time performing records searches for the Bureau._ With no little sense of irony, he began punching in the home phone number he had for 'Charlie,' hoping to catch either him, or them, before they left for work for the day.

\--o-0-o--

Safe House  
Charleston, South Carolina  
Monday, 10:29 am

Sweaty but relaxed following their run around the indoor track, Scully and Rosen were returning to their rooms to shower. 

After passing Scully a clean towel, Rosen rubbed her face with another from the stack in the gym. "I'm surprised you could go for so long."

The auburn-haired pathologist shook her head. "The blades keep the impacts down and I'm healing fairly quickly." She twisted carefully. "I feel better than I expected to." 

The pair resumed their walk toward their quarters. 

Scully gazed up at the tall brunette. "You and Nichols should head back to DC. We need to be able to prove that Amanda is Lady Lovelace." 

Rosen smiled a greeting at Nichols, who was carrying a stack of files from the conference room. "It'll be tough." 

Scully nodded. "I know. Everything about that Organization is incredibly slippery when it comes to nailing facts down. But, an accusation like this, against a fellow agent, especially given how visible we are, needs to be verified every way we can." 

Stepping behind the two women to allow one of the staff to pass, Nichols sighed. "Did Mulder reach Cynthia? Are our computers safe now?" 

Scully turned her head slightly to address the man behind her. "Yes, she called back before Rosen and I went out to the track. We must assume they know everything we do." 

Since they had reached their temporary quarters, Rosen stopped at her door. "And more." 

Scully sighed. "Always more." 

His hair wet, Mulder stepped through his door, raising both eyebrows at the others. "Scully talk to you two?" 

Nichols passed him the folders. "Yeah, Chief, we're out the door after Mary Decker finishes with her shower." 

Rosen smiled, then slipped into her space. 

Nichols crossed his arms. "Anything else?" 

Mulder nodded. "Check on Cynthia. She seemed more upset when she called than the situation warranted." 

Scully draped the towel over her shoulder. "It could be nothing more than shock, Mulder. She's only twenty-three. I don't think life on the farm prepared her for international conspiracies." 

Mulder shook his head. "Agreed, but I think it's more than that. I have this suspicion she knows something." He pointed toward Rosen's door with his chin. "Maybe she'll tell *her*, if she won't tell you." 

A curt nod, then Nichols headed for his room. 

Sniffing dramatically, Mulder leaned toward Scully. "Mm, Doctor..."

She rapped on the arm portion of his cast. "Stone needs to speak with us?" 

Mulder chuckled. "Saunders, actually. Skinner's been grilling him on our cigarette smoking adversary. As vague as he can be when it comes to details of the Consortium's technical developments, he has some very definite opinions on his old boss."

Scully lifted her towel off her shoulder. "Does it surprise you to know how closely those two worked together?" 

Mulder shifted the papers in his arm. "Not really. It makes me wonder about how my previous contact fitted into the picture, though." 

She stepped through her door. "Maybe we'll find out."

\--o-0-o--

Arlington Hospital  
Arlington, Virginia  
Wednesday, August 20, 1997  
4:17 pm

The balding man in the hospital bed pulled the sheets up over his shrunken gut, then squinted at his visitor. He wasn't exactly sure who he was, but he knew he needed glasses to see anything more than a few feet away. "Hello?" The grey suit swam into focus, a tobacco aroma clinging to him. 

"Luther! There you are!" The old spy grimaced. 

Luther gasped. "You know who I am?" 

"Yes." The man with the Morleys found he was fidgeting with the pack in his jacket pocket. "We used to work together, but I'm told you remember very little of that still." 

"Very little of anything." Fascinated by the networks of lines he saw there, Luther shifted closer to focus his dark eyes on the face. "If you can tell me what happened to me, I'd be eternally grateful." 

A snort as he lifted a metal chair from its place by the door. "Let's just say I'm not here to earn your undying anything." _This is just an opportunity tailor-made for my purposes._ "But it would be appreciated." 

Luther felt icy fear close around his heart, but in his desperation to recover the man he had been, pushed it aside. "Please, anything." 

The fingers descended into the coat pocket again. "We used to work together," he offered with a wave, "prior to your accident. With time and training, we can do so again." 

The short man tugged his pillowcase into place behind his back. "But what did I do?" 

The old spy arched a brow. "It's highly classified. When you're recovered, I'll begin to brief you in again." 

Luther shook his head. "Can you at least say what happened to me?" 

The man with the Morleys leaned back in the chair. "That I can. You were immobilized somehow, the doctors aren't certain, and an identical double took your place for a period of several months." 

Luther found himself swaying on his feet in front of his guest. "Several months? I've lost several months?" 

The man in grey rose as well. "Indeed you have. I'd not realized myself until I stopped by one day to find your double had interests in computers and health food." 

Patting his stomach, the balding man nodded. "Which I obviously didn't." 

A nod. "Obviously." Dark eyes flicked around the room. "Tell me, what *do* you recall of your previous life?" 

Luther climbed back into the bed. "Oh, bits and pieces. A farm where there were rolling hills and lakes. Swaying on trains. I have this sense that I spent much time on trains." 

The old man nodded. "You did." 

"Oh, and I remember being in rooms with women in blue gowns on beds. There were men occasionally, but mostly, it was women. I remember coming and going, sometimes helping move these women around." He cocked his bald head. "Did I used to work in a hospital?" 

A shrug. "Not exactly a hospital. But more on that later." He rose, carrying the chair back to its spot. "Anything else?" 

"I remember people screaming in pain." Luther licked his lips nervously. "Was I doing that? Was I somehow making these men and women suffer?" 

The old man's hand was set firmly in the pocket now. "No, you weren't. It was an unfortunate side-effect of the treatments and tests." The other set of browned fingers descended on his shoulder. "Rest, now, get your strength back. There is much we need to catch up on." 

Luther mustered a tiny smile, then watched his visitor vanish into the blurry fog by the door. _Finally, some truth._

\--o-0-o--

Safe House  
Charleston, South Carolina  
Thursday, August 21, 1997  
10:02 am

Walter Skinner found he could barely keep his pace from breaking into a run as he hurried down the hall to the large conference room. After snapping in the entrance code, he was greeted by five surprised faces. "Agent Scully?" 

The auburn-haired woman rose from her seat beside Mulder's. "Sir?" 

The bald director's dress shoes slipped across the thickly woven carpets soundlessly as he walked to stand in front of her. "Before you went up to Canada, you asked me to place a request with the security agencies of the larger airports." 

Scully looked down at her partner to explain. "We wanted them to alert us if anyone matching the description of the shape-shifter who masqueraded as your sister passed through." 

Nichols turned to Rosen, who mouthed 'Later' at him, then they both faced the agents across the room from them. Stone had stopped scratching on a legal pad, but was not watching, just listening. 

Scully raised her eyes to Skinner's bespectacled ones. "I presume they've reported someone, or two someones, Sir?" 

Checking over his shoulder when Saunders entered, Skinner grunted. "In light of the crush of events, I had neglected to cancel that request, and last evening, two brown-haired women matching that description were seen taking an international flight out of Dulles, bound for Rome, Italy." 

Saunders crossed his arms. "If the shape-shifters were held anywhere, it would have been at the facility in Maryland, unless there's a new one I don't know about." He set his face as he looked to Mulder. "I delivered a friend of yours to there, one Doctor Chester A. Banton." 

Mulder was on his feet before either Scully or Skinner could move to intercept him. "What? *You* took Banton? After I... After you..." 

Gritting his teeth, Skinner grasped Mulder's unbound shoulder firmly. "Now is not the time, Agent Mulder." 

Still gulping deep breaths, Mulder relaxed marginally. "Yeah, it's never time, is it?" 

Scully blocked his view of the bearded African-American. "From Italy, it's an easy flight to Africa, Mulder." She turned to Skinner. "Is that where they were headed? Could you find out?" 

Skinner sighed. "No, Agent Scully, I couldn't. Rome's computer records weren't available when I took the call." He dismissed the problem with a wave of his hand. "Something about system malfunctions. They checked through no luggage, carrying-on only a single small bag each. The guard that phoned them in remembers that the women kept setting off the metal detectors, even though they never found weapons, jewelry, or keys on them. I've already verified that these were the women with the security agents who saw them."

Nichols crossed his arms. "So, the shadow government has no leverage over the shape-shifters, nothing to make them cooperate." 

After sending a final glare at Saunders, Mulder rubbed his face. "Yeah. We're back to two groups then, us and the Consortium." 

Stone's oak ladderback chair creaked. "No, Muldah, we're down from four to three, if Director Skinner's assessment of that old man is correct." 

Saunders nodded. "He *is* your enemy. The others may deliver up some technological answers to specific problems, but none of them has the ability or the experience to provide the long-term guidance the Organization needs." 

Mulder cocked his head. "Given an objective, he'll see to it that plans are carried out. If he's working with these new leaders..." 

Saunders sighed. "He won't be. There's no focus to their efforts, no direction. Probably by now he's attempting to take control when they least expect it." 

Scully settled back in her padded aluminum chair. "Then we'd better make sure we aren't caught in the cross-fire."

\--o-0-o--

Office of Aliat Hanoar Institution  
Kibbutz Kfar Szold, Israel  
Friday, August 22, 1997  
12:21 pm

"Maximillian!" The official emerged from his back office, beaming. 

Margaret ran her eyes up and down the man's form. She knew from the golden shades of Jacob Richter's curls as well as his tall, angular body that he was probably one of the Europeans. Her time in Israel had disabused her of the lurking image in her mind that most Jews were of German or Eastern European backgrounds. She had seen Israelis who looked no different from the Palestinians she passed on the narrow streets of the Old City while she and Caroline had been playing tourist. Once, surrounded by a group speaking Mandarin, Caroline had assured her that these were descendants of Jewish merchants, who brought their families to settle in China when the Khans had been emperors. But now, she brought her attention back to the man who was bending over her hand, offering his hospitality in perfect English. 

Caroline smiled at her friend's confusion. "Margaret, it's all right. We've had Jacob to the house before. Have some fruit. It's grown here on the Kibbutz." 

Nodding, Margaret settled in the chair Max was patting. "Thank you. I'm not used to being pampered like this." 

Richter passed her a tall glass of watermelon juice. "Here, you'll find this most refreshing in the heat." A quick nod, then their host was all business. "So, you think one of your children was here, misclassified as an orphan, Caroline?" 

The white-haired woman glanced at her hands before she sighed. "Yes. My youngest, Samantha." She slid the surveillance photo toward him. "I know you've had so many children come through here, and she may only have been here for a few days, but..." 

Sobering, Richter shook his head. "Nonsense. We consider it our trust to keep records, Caroline. Sometimes it's all the links families like yours will have." He tapped the space bar on his computer to activate the screen. "Let's transfer this image, shall we?" He placed the sheet, white side up, on the glass of an HP ScanJet, then snapped the cover down. As they watched, the photograph appeared in a digital window, then another box opened beneath it. Richter typed a few keys, then the software began to cross-check. 

Max craned his head to read the front of the chassis. "This is what, a Pentium?" 

Richter smiled. "Dual Pentium. We run our web-site off of it, as well as doing these data searches. It was quite an effort to transfer all those photos to images, and we have CD's of them all." He pointed to a rack behind Margaret. "It speeds things up so much. But this will take a few minutes." He smiled at Caroline again. "Was she an only child?" 

The dignified woman closed her eyes momentarily, prompting Margaret to reply for her, "No, she has an older brother. Fox." 

As he studied the dark-haired woman, Richter's sun-bleached eyebrows lifted. "Oh? You don't sound, well... " He stopped, licking his lips. 

Margaret leaned forward. "My daughter is his partner. They're FBI agents." 

A wry chuckle escaped the man behind the desk. "In Hoover's Bureau. You don't say. Times *have* changed for the better, eh, Max?" 

The white-haired man nodded. "Indeed." 

Caroline tipped her head. "The machine's found something." 

Richter rotated the chair. "Ah, yes, here we go." Tapping the left mouse button, he brought up a set of group images, working to stretch and expand the one on the upper right. "This seems like she." 

Caroline walked to bend over his shoulder. "Yes, I believe it is. It's the same dress and hair, in any case." 

"Hum." Richter brought up a data window. "No name, just a number. She was transferred from here to one of the religious Kibbutzim, Sde Eliyahu in the Beit Shean valley. It's a working agricultural center close to the Sea of Galilee, so she would have been educated while she did some chores around a farm." 

Caroline broke out into helpless laughter. "My Sammie! Pulling weeds." She waved a hand at the three faces focused on hers. "I'm sorry, she was such a sweet little girl, but she hated dirt of any kind. The worst thing Fox could do to her was, oh, I'm sorry, I'm babbling." She took a deep breath. "Please, give us the address and we'll be on our way." 

Margaret shook her head. "Caroline! Don't feel you can't share with us. Who else have you had to tell these things to?" She paused, watching the white-haired woman struggle with a maelstrom of emotions. 

Max rose smoothly, reaching to shake Richter's hand. "Thanks for everything. Our escort will be none too pleased, but this," he concluded as he plucked a sheet from the laser printer, "is where we need to go next."

\--o-0-o--

Science Lab  
J. Edgar Hoover Building  
Friday, 7:21 am

With a sigh, 'Ace' popped out the sides of the government packing container, then folded in the flaps for the bottom. _It's for the best for the Organization, and you will be running your own business._ But still, she felt a snarl of trepidation in the pit of her stomach. She loved the Bureau, loved the work, the feeling of righteousness it have given her, until the problems with Director Sessions had been trotted out in the media. Then, the man with the cigarettes had approached her, offering her a way to administer pure justice, free of politics and meddling. 

She set her lips in an uneven grin when she caught the shadow of a figure through the glass outside the door. "Come in."

'Charlie' was beaming as he entered. "I stopped by to see if you needed some help, Sweetheart." He glanced around her jumbled space. "You haven't even begun to pack, have you?" 

She bit her lip as she threw several binders in the box. "Yes, I have, see?" 

He reached out to grasp her by the shoulders. "You know we can't risk losing you from the Organization, don't you?" 

Turning away from him, she nodded. 

He wedged himself between her and the computer desk. "Then what is it?" 

She crossed her arms. "I've always been self-sufficient, Drew." She narrowed her eyes at him. "All these changes are coming too fast. First, the engagement, then us moving in together, now my quitting the Bureau to work out of your place." 

He shook his head. "No, not my place. Our place. We both sold our condos to buy this new one together. It's our place, not mine." He held her face with both hands. "Besides, with your brains, that web-page design business of yours will bring in a fortune." 

She let out an exasperated breath. "I'm not very artistic. Oh, the html coding is no problem; I can find links on the Net no one knew existed, but as far as pretty pictures, forget it." She bit her lip hard to keep the tears from overflowing. 

'Charlie' drew her into a hug. "I'll look out for you, Lisa. You know that, don't you?" 

She nodded, then scrubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. "Yes, of course." 

He lifted her chin with his finger. "Then smile. The rest of the lab is throwing you a huge party. They hate to see you go as much as I'll love having you home all the time." Turning to her side, he began unfolding boxes. "You just tell me what you need packed and where, so you won't be forgetting anything important."

She pointed at the cables over the door. "We'll need to take those down first. I bought those special last year when the Bureau was in a purchasing freeze because there was no way to have the bandwidth I wanted for my network signals without them."

Nodding, he slid her one casterless chair to the door. "Yup, here goes."

\--o-0-o--

Overlooking Kibbutz Sde Eliyahu  
Bet Shean Valley, Israel  
Monday, August 25, 1997  
3:37 pm

Margaret stared down the mountain road at the rest of the dun-colored vehicles in the convoy. "Caroline, I never expected it to be so difficult to reach this area. It seems we went through checkpoints every half mile." She felt the chassis of their jeep shift as they crested the last hill.

The white-haired woman nodded. "Oh, we had it easy. Normally, - My! Look at this!" She tugged on the younger woman's arm.

After she faced forward, Margaret Scully gasped. They had spent most of the past two days driving along tan valleys and over bare mountain peaks. The autumn rains had not yet arrived, so the native vegetation languished in the absence of moisture. Not so the crops below, thanks to the drip irrigation network bringing water from the hills to the west and from the Jordan to the east. They descended through full-leafed vineyards, the grapes hard, blood-black buds on thick branches, to the valley floor. Once there, the convoy wound down a narrow dirt road between fields of nearly-mature wheat, its seed-heavy heads flopping to one side, despite the support of the tough, grasslike stalks. The convoy slowed to a crawl when one of the Kibbutz tractors turned onto the road from a field of squat, closely planted Fava beans. A breeze rattling along the valley set broad, heart-shaped leaves shimmering, revealing the wide, hairy pods beneath.

The white-haired woman pointed to a series of interlinked ponds in the distance. "That's the Tilapia fish hatchery, Margaret. They've been at it for fifty years."

The younger woman frowned as she followed Caroline's finger. "Here, in this desert?" 

The driver chuckled, so Max leaned back to comment, "This *was* once the Fertile Crescent, Maudie." 

The dark green tractor slowed to a near-stop once the road left the crop fields, then crossed into a slightly browner pasture. Five young men, their thick dark beards a startling incongruity with their crisp black denim shorts, were herding black and white cows to a nearby milking shed. After a worried check of the distant hills, the soldier behind the wheel turned to speak quietly to Max in Hebrew.

When Margaret caught a glimpse inside the barns, she realized a few of the Holsteins had already been hooked into milking machines. "I was half-expecting this to be like some Pennsylvania Dutch settlement, but it isn't, not at all." 

Max smiled at her from the front seat. "Oh? I should hope it would have put you in mind of a certain other American religious sect." 

Margaret leaned toward him. "You don't mean the Mormons, do you?" 

Having heard the words many times before, Caroline chuckled. "No, he's thinking of the Shakers, aren't you, My Dear?" 

The white-haired man nodded. "So I was. Technology isn't evil, Maudie, only the ends we choose to put it toward." He pointed toward a set of long white buildings. "That's where the historical records are housed." He faced forward when the tractor turned off, then the convoy sped up.

Margaret finished the rest of the short ride in an awed silence. To her left, she could identify smaller plots of green and orange squashes, among vines of eggplant, ripe with purple bulbs or slender curved Oriental pods. A few short apple trees sported tiny green fruits, not the great red spheres she remembered from the family’s autumns in New England, so she wondered if they were only for decoration. 

When the convoy rolled to a halt outside one of the buildings, Max descended, holding doors for both the women in the rear of the jeep. He smiled down at Margaret. "I heard you exclaim over the apple trees. They were specially developed for the drier climate and the more uniform lengths of days. The fruit isn't huge, but is very flavorful." He chuckled. "It was the one aspect of New York Thea missed terribly once we moved south, so I had two planted at the house in Miami, but the salt was too much for them." He bit his lip, then slid Caroline's hand over his arm. "Shall we?"

\--o-0-o--

Margaret listened to Max speaking Hebrew with the short man across the desk from them. He was, she assumed, explaining their mission. A slight squeeze of Caroline's hand on his arm, then he switched to English without hesitation. "...my wife and her friend are Americans."

Black curls, shot through with grey, bobbed in affirmation. "Welcome to Israel, then. As I was explaining to Maximillian, we have had many orphans sent to us through Aliat Hanoar, most of whom have moved on to new homes around the world." Here, he looked at Caroline directly. "Since your daughter, was it?" He waited for the white-haired woman to nod. "Since she was brought here with a group, I'll need for you to look through some old photo albums. Tracking lost children isn't our primary function, you must understand, but, we *do* have records." 

Margaret watched Caroline's cheeks color, then pale, until she reached over to grasp her hand. 

The white-haired woman smiled uneasily, then cleared her throat. "Where are the photos? The sooner we begin, the better." 

Rising, their host led them to a small room lined with bookcases, stopping partway along one wall to tap the edge of a shelf. "This should be the years 1975-76." He passed a stack of albums to Max, who carried them to the table in the center of the space. 

Caroline laid the entry photo of Samantha in the center of the bare wood top. "This is what we'll have to look for." She slid on a pair of reading glasses, lifted the top album off the closest pile, took a deep breath, then flipped the cover.

\--o-0-o--

Max set his half-glasses on the table, rubbing his eyes with the thumb and forefinger of his right hand. "Arr. Some of these color prints have faded so badly I have a difficult time making anyone out." He returned Margaret's nod of sympathy before turning to his wife. "Line-chen? Anything?"

The white-haired woman sighed, then peered intently at one girl in the back of a class picture. "Ah! Look! Look!" Margaret and Max each bent over a shoulder.

Margaret slid the entry print next to the face. "It might be a match." She pulled one of the albums free of her pile. "I have the individual photos from that year here." Turning over cardboard-stiffened sheets, she ran her finger down a column of girls. "Ah, yes, here she is!" She rotated the book so Caroline could check it. 

"Oh!" Her hand flew up to cover her mouth. "Sammie. It's Sammie." A single tear escaped from one eye, then she tapped the right cheek in the photograph. "See that little mole? We Podhowitzes often had one there." 

Margaret frowned. "I don't see it on you." 

Caroline wiped her cheek self-consciously. "Oh, my mother had it removed when I was thirteen. I had always intended to have it done for her, but now I'm glad," she exclaimed, sniffling, "I'm so glad." 

Max rubbed her shoulders gently. "So, what does the album say her name was changed to?" 

Margaret ran her finger under the English words, Sarah Silverberg, Hebrew characters running from right to left beneath. "Now we know who has her." 

Caroline shook her head. "Who *had* her. We don't know if that is still her name. But there were records." Bustling to her feet, she hurried to a group of filing cabinets by the door, where she pulled open a drawer, then stopped. "These are all in Hebrew." Terrified, she looked to her husband, who joined her. 

After opening three bins, he lifted out a slim folder, then patted the chest pockets of his shirt in turn. "I'll need my specs." 

Margaret carried them to him. "Here!" She felt her own pulse racing. _Is this what solving a case is like for Dana?_

His chin moving up and down mechanically, Max muttered as he turned pages. "Ah. It says she was adopted officially in Hes 5734." He focused over the lenses at Margaret. "That's, ah, around October 1976. She left with her family about a year later, heading for Haifa shortly before Sadat came to Tel Aviv."

Caroline drew in a deep, shuddering breath. "Then that's where we'll have to go. We'll need to look through passenger manifests, try to find how she left Israel." 

Margaret rubbed her shoulder. "We'll find her." 

The white-haired woman raised her chin in grim determination. "Yes, we will."

\--o-0-o--

Dark Apartment  
Washington, DC  
Tuesday, August 26, 1997  
9:27 pm

Watching Luther read, the old spy lit another Morley. _Ah, to have a tabula rasa to work with. I'd forgotten how wonderful that can be._

The balding man closed the folder he had been studying. "I never knew. I never realized the threat would be so great." 

A grimace stretched the wrinkled features. "Ah, yes, misguided crusaders can be the most dangerous."

Luther shook his head. "But, if they don't understand the risks, why do you permit them to continue?" 

A cloud of smoke enveloped them both. "Because, Mister Mulder has his uses. The four who took power unprepared focus on him, not on us." 

The black frames bobbed to offer gratitude for the inclusion. 

The old spy leaned forward. "We keep Mister Mulder and those working with him busy chasing his sister or the four of them." 

"No group with limited resources can successfully fight a two front war." 

The Smoking Man nodded. "Yes. Too bad the National Socialists forgot that little lesson in history." He cocked a greying brow. "How are you coming with the Peloponnesian War?" 

Luther rubbed his forehead. "I have a feeling I've been through it before. The speeches seem oddly familiar, even if all the campaigning goes right over my head." He looked over seriously. "I *have* read it before, haven't I?" 

A cigarette was tamped out in an ashtray, then another lit with a match. "No. You said you did, but I have the feeling you skimmed it." The lined visage was brought close to his. "Read it, learn it, plumb the depths of insight that old general had to offer. Few books have given us so much psychology and strategy together. When you've finished, you'll need to read 'The Art of War'." 

Luther sighed. "But if it makes the same points, I don't - "

A long drag, then a sigh. "One introduces you to the foundation of conflicts we will experience when we spar with the Europeans." He cocked his head.

Sudden understanding dawned in Luther's dark eyes. "The other for the Orient."

"Exactly. Exactly. And you'll need to learn the different forms of chess, as well."

Luther crossed his arms. "You can't tell me those are war training, too!" 

Ashes cascaded onto glass. "Long-range strategic planning. Once you've learned to do it in a board game, then," he explained as he shrugged, "extending it to the world around you becomes easy. I'll teach you. I haven't had a good game in ages." 

Luther leaned forward. "Not since her?" 

The grey head tipped. "Not since her."

\--o-0-o--

Dan Carmel Hotel  
Haifa, Israel  
Wednesday, August 27, 1997  
7:26 pm

Caroline slid the heavy shoes she had selected for the day from her feet, then leaned back into the pillows. She had avoided this phone call, not because of the guilt that she had slipped into easily, like a sweater, for so many years. Her delay had been more from a fear of offering false hope where there was none. But the information she and Max had received at the Kibbutzim were the first clear markers on what she fervently hoped would be a short trail to her daughter. 

She had been unable to reach her son or Margaret's daughter with the news, either at home or at work or on their respective cell phones. But, once they had returned to this city by the sea, they had contacted the local Bureau office to find that they were all in South Carolina. Rather than making contact in a cramped, tiny office, she had returned here to speak with her son in privacy. 

She checked the hastily scribbled digits twice before she tapped out the number. After six rings, she heard an unfamiliar voice query for a password. "Hum? I was calling to speak with Special Agent Fox Mulder, Badge number JTT047101111." She shut her eyes. "Special Agent Wilson in the Tel Aviv office, ID number 3276-583 told me this was where he was." She considered, briefly, identifying herself as his mother, but knew that using such a fake identity was an old trick. She listened while the agent verified the numbers and names, then assured her he would put her through. 

"This is Special Agent Mulder." 

She savored the crisp professionalism her son had cloaked himself in. "Fox, this is your Mother." 

The exclamation was almost instantaneous. "Mom! Mom, are you okay? Is everyone all right?"

She smiled. "We're better than all right. We have some preliminary information on your sister I wanted to share with you. Are you somewhere you can talk, Fox?" She listened while he spoke in muffled tones to someone named Jarred. 

"Yeah, Mom, go ahead. I'm alone. What have you learned?" 

Briefly, she relayed to him what they had uncovered, finishing with, "Max is setting up meetings with a few old friends in Mossad to see if we can work out where she was going when she left with her adoptive family." She paused. "Fox?" 

"Yeah?" 

She leaned forward. "We have no reason to doubt that this information is genuine."

Something rustled at the other end, then there was the click of heels entering the room. "No. No, I'm sure you don't. You wouldn't call me unless you were certain. If you need any help from my end, please, call at anytime." 

Caroline sighed. "Of course I will, Fox. Of course. When you see Dana, please tell her Margaret has been a great help to us." 

"Okay. I will."

"That's all I have, really. Since you're at work, no mush. I'll speak with you again soon, Fox." 

"Okay, Mom. Bye."

\--o-0-o--

FBI Safe House  
Charleston, South Carolina  
Wednesday, 11:39 am

Dana Scully watched her partner hang up the phone. "That was your Mom?" 

Nodding, Mulder bit his lip. 

She took the seat Stone had just vacated. "Well?" 

In a hushed voice, Mulder related to his partner what he had just learned. 

Scully rested her hand on his unbound shoulder. "I'm so happy for you, Mulder. This is the first positive news you've had since before we went to the Arctic."

Running his hand through his hair, he gazed over at her. "So, what do you have?" 

Scully rose, leaving her fingers on his arm. "It can wait, if you want to be alone for a little while." 

Standing, he shoved his hand in his pocket before Scully could see it trembling. "Nope. I'd rather be working. We can talk later, okay?" 

A dip of auburn hair, then she was leading him from the small chamber to the larger conference room.

\--o-0-o--

Government Office Building  
Bonn, Germany  
Wednesday, 8:42 pm

The old spy waited in the elevator, savoring this moment of triumph. _Apparently, not all the old men are gone, at least not here._ When the door chime sounded, he emerged into a space that seemed to take him back in time. Tall leather seats were pulled into a loose circle, then, as he watched, thick grey smoke rose to hover above several of the occupied chairs. _Pipes, a few cigarettes, but mostly, fine Cubans._

One of the heavy-jowled men in grey rose to wave him into an adjoining seat. "Ah." The gravel showed his age. "Come, we have much to discuss." 

The man with the Morleys sighed as a snifter of Languedoc appeared on a silver tray in front of him. "Danke. Vielen Dank." 

His host held up one blue-veined hand. "The gesture is appreciated, but we have many nations here, so we must use what has become our Lingua Franca." His lips danced at the unintended reference to the past, then nodded a condolence to a balding man in green across the room. Turning back to the old American, he sobered. "My apologies for coming to the point. Your young associates have made quite a muddle of things." 

The old spy sipped the clear amber liquid delicately. "That they have. Their reliance on technology and quick fixes will always do them harm." He glanced around the room. "We know the benefits of seeking a long-term solution." 

The bald man in green licked his lips before he affirmed, "Yes. It is, how do you say, the best answer, we seek, not the first." 

The greying heads around the room bobbed in agreement. 

The man in green continued, "How long had your organization been aware of the shape-shifters?" 

The old spy pinched the stem of the snifter, then declined another mouthful. "Once Mulder and Scully brought the existence of the colony to light, we were tracking them. Had not the others arrived, we would have been content to leave them alone. Some situations are better left unperturbed." 

More gestures of assent set currents of air in motion through the dark room. 

"But, at least we know their intentions." 

The German host turned. "Oh?" 

The old spy slid a Morley from his pocket, then dropped it on the table when a wooden box of cigars was waved in front of him. "Ah, yes, once again, Mister Mulder proved invaluable." 

Whispers of chuckles prompted him to continue. 

"They are, apparently, a planet of nature-lovers." 

Voice and tone rose in a few throaty responses. 

The man in green smiled. "So, they mean to study us? To come back periodically and take a few specimens? Those would be acceptable losses." 

The old American held the tobacco smoke in his mouth before releasing it in three precise rings. "If only that were the case. Their intentions are far more insidious. If we do not reduce out population, they mean to return in a century or two and do it for us." 

The German host sighed. "Exterminate us? Surely - " 

The old spy savored another mouthful of smoke. "No, no, you misunderstand. They would prefer we reduce our numbers back to what they consider to be a non-ecosystem damaging sustainable number. They would like to see us all revert to small enclaves of agriculturally-based colonies in some sort of Jeffersonian idyll." 

The man in green burst out in a full guffaw. "All our fears of invasion dashed, at least, in this instance. They have no ship, no means of communication with their home world. We will track them down and exterminate them. Then we can continue to develop the technology we need to defend ourselves against other, less philosophical, adversaries." 

The American had been savoring the Armangac, but now, reluctantly, swallowed the mouthful. "We need not even do any work along those lines. Mister Mulder's merry band is already investigating that for us." 

His German host settled back against the leather. "And you have a spy in his organization?" 

The old man in grey grimaced. "The best kind. An unwitting one." He snorted. "One of my young associates has taken Mulder's secretary into his bed." 

A rumble of agreement. 

A new face leaned in out of the smoke. "Speaking of Mulder, it seems his mother has stumbled onto a viable lead regarding the daughter." 

The American sighed. "Let her find her, then." 

The German glared. "What? Although Caroline Podowitz..."

The old spy rested the cigar on the edge of the tray. "That's all she wants. Then she'll retire from the game, taking her meddlesome husband with her." His grey eyes flicked around the room. "Which is all we want. Am I correct?" 

The man in green shook his head. "It is only one of the things we want. But if letting them find her will remove two dangerous players, then I believe we will all agree." 

The American dropped his hands to the arms of his chair to shift in it. "What else did you have in mind?" 

The German cocked his head. "Are you speaking for your Organization, or should we bring the young Turks in for this?" 

"No. Whatever you need from us, I know how to get." A grimace. "Now." 

His host smiled, the expression dark and sinister. "Ah. Good to have you back, then."

\--o-0-o--

Apartment  
Arlington, Virginia  
Friday, August 29, 1997  
6:21 pm

Nichols grunted as he pushed himself off the couch to answer the door. The lean, angular figure outside surprised him. "Ros? I thought you'd be on your way to Ithaca by now." He stepped back. "Come'on in." 

The brunette shuffled inside. "Thanks, Nic." 

Glancing over, Nichols caught the puffiness around his partner's eyes, but only offered, "You want some mineral water? Diet Coke?" 

She shook her head, aiming for his battered recliner instead. "No, nothing, thanks. I just..." She began chewing the side of her thumb absently. 

The mustachioed man surveyed his partner, who was curled tightly against one protruding side of the Barcalonguer. "Hey, did I ever tell you that I managed to culture some yeast off a fresh bottle of Chimay?" 

She leaned out of the padding. "Really?" Her narrow face radiated an interest her partner knew she didn't truly feel. 

Nichols sighed. _It's happening to you, too, kid._ "Hum. I'll be right back." He poured dark liquid into a wide thick-stemmed goblet, then returned with a bottle of orange-flavored Strathmore. Waiting until Rosen had cleared the junk mail off his coffee table, he set the bottle by her, then leaned back, holding the glass. "See?" 

Rosen's dark eyebrows curved. "You're drinking it? I thought you said it needed to age?" 

Nichols shrugged. "Ah, it has." After a sip, he carefully set the goblet down, then rubbed his palms together. "Ros - " 

She scrubbed her face with her left hand. "Cary called." 

Nichols nodded. "I thought that was why you'd be here. Is her Mom okay?" 

The astronomer returned to chewing her right thumb, then flicked at it angrily with her index finger. "Oh, Miss Alice, she's *always* okay. Even when she's at death's door." Rosen crossed her arms. "Sorry, Nic, I know you have your own problems." Her sigh exploded through her nose. "I just, I needed to talk to somebody and all, but you have that outing with Janie and Liz tomorrow before they leave for the West Coast. I should have called." She leaned forward. 

Nichols reached over to grasp her shoulder. "It's no problem, Ros. Tomorrow is tomorrow. Anything you can't eat while you're in training, or could I interest you in some take-out?" 

Both turned toward the kitchen when the phone rang. 

Nichols trotted in to answer it, feeling a sense of relief at the caller. "Hey, Scully? What can I do for you?" He tossed a grin at his partner when she, water bottle in hand, appeared in the doorway. "That's great." His smile broadened. "That's super!" A nod. "Okay, we'll be there Monday, then. We'll update you on the latest we have from the Gunmen, too." 

Rosen straightened. "Oh? What's up?" 

After he replaced the receiver, he turned to her. "Mulder may have some new information on his sister. Scully's trying to get him to go out to the Mediterranean to help with the search, so she'd like us to come back to the safe house." 

The astronomer gulped down her water. "Now?" 

Nichols shook his head. "Scully needs the time to work on Mulder in private; you know that's how they operate." 

She grinned. "You were right back at Franklin Bay. This is a weird little family we've put together here." 

The mustache twitched. "Yeah. So, you do Vietnamese?" He held out a thick booklet to her.

She set the bottle on the kitchen counter to take the papers. "Yeah! There's a place here that advertises 'No MSG'." She flattened the newsprint on the cracked linoleum.

Reaching for the phone, he glanced back over his shoulder. "But, Ros, MSG is perfectly natural, plus, it's good for you!"

\--o-0-o--

Beachfront  
Tel Aviv, Israel  
Saturday, August 30, 1997  
1:31 pm

Wearing matching green one-piece suits, two identical women with long brown hair smiled, then waved at three children frolicking in the surf. The two boys and the girl were laughing and shouting alongside the rest of the international tourists on the crowded beach. Since twins often married twins, no one would have thought it odd when they were approached by two identical, balding men, who feigned arthritis as they bent to kiss them briefly. One of the men called for the children, who scrambled reluctantly out of the water to assemble in a loose circle around their parents. 

The slightly more diminutive brown-haired woman spoke first. "We are relieved to see you are well." 

Her 'husband' responded, "We have developed survival apparati that permit us to travel among the Europeans undetected." He touched her forehead. "Here, use these." 

The woman pressed her palm against the finger, nodding as she processed the information. "We are grateful for this aid. With what you have learned while we were in the Colony, we can now modify our appearance with greater ease, and we can obscure the UV signatures that are so easily detectable. We were on our way to a source of raw materials that would allow us to rebuild some of our construction tools." She passed the data to her counterpart by pressing her index finger in the same spot as the 'husband' had accessed.

Her 'husband' cocked his head. "It is a shame that simians are so prone to splintering along purely intellectual lines of division. Our evolution emphasized unity, not discord, so perhaps it is to be expected that we have advanced so far so fast."

The taller brown-haired woman frowned slightly while she processed the new information. "But you say here that you have located an alternate vessel?" 

The other 'husband' nodded. "It was not too difficult to work it out, although the simian who concealed the clues was excessively clever for one of his kind. This species has a great deal of promise. If it were permitted, they should be encouraged in their development along proper paths." 

The little girl, her multicolored bikini almost dry, sat up straight. "You know that is not our way. We make neither allies nor enemies, for one can become the other in an eye's blink. These simians will either exterminate themselves or develop by their own means, but we have offered a suggestion to prepared ears that may give some small hope for their future." 

The first 'husband' looked around at the women and the girl. "You worthies have taken such actions before, and it has never had the effects you have anticipated." 

The oldest boy growled. "Worthies! You inflate your importance by using such words for yourself!" 

The taller brown-haired woman held up her hand. "There will be time for philosophy later, Pilot, once we are home again. We know what your choice would be for every simian species we ever encounter, but that cannot be, either. As you just pointed out, unilateral actions never have the anticipated outcome. You might be inadvertently exterminating our own kind while removing what you consider vermin in the Universe." 

The boy was on his feet. "Enough talk! Let us proceed." 

Pushing on a thick pair of glasses, the smaller boy, his pale skin already freckling, shivered before he spoke. "Yes, worthies, we must proceed. Optimum time for departure is almost at hand."

The shorter 'mother' nodded. "Engineer, you see the straightest path." She looked from one husband to the other. "Return to your monitoring, following the orders the simians give you. We shall make contact again when we have arrived at our destination." 

The seven began laughing and chattering nonsensically as a large tour group moved slowly past them.

\--o-0-o--

Safe House  
Charleston, South Carolina  
Saturday, 9:04 am

His hair still slick from his shower, Mulder knocked on his partner's room door. "Scully? Skinner said you wanted to talk to me." His grin faded once the wood parted from the frame, then he spotted the hollows under her eyes. "Scully?" 

She dropped her gaze momentarily. "Mulder. Come in." 

He followed her inside. "You okay? You look like you didn't sleep." He winced as he eased himself into one of the two chairs in her room. 

Her arms crossed, the auburn-haired woman let her eyes drift idly along the patterns in the carpet, not trusting herself to look at him when she spoke. "I've asked Rosen and Nichols to come back down here from DC." She began pacing, expecting an objection. 

He cocked his head. "This was what you needed to tell me in private? We'd wanted them to come back soon to help with the investigations we have planned." 

Rubbing her ribs, she stopped, facing him. "No, Mulder, it isn't." 

His hazel eyes hardening into black crystal, he rose to glare down at her. "I don't want to have the conversation I think you want us to have, Scully." 

She rocked back on her heels. "Why not? This is Samantha we're talking about here. I won't let this investigation come between you and finding her." 

The dark-haired man rested his unbound hand on her shoulder. "Look, I understand what you're trying to do for me." He caught his lower lip in his teeth momentarily. "Although I've certainly not said it often enough, I've *always* appreciated when you watch out for me, but, this time, I'm not sure it's necessary." Stepping away, he lowered himself into the seat he had just vacated, then waved toward the other. Since she remained on her feet, he continued. "Remember Lauren Kyte?" 

A blink of green-blue eyes. "You mean, the secretary who helped us solve the murder of Howard Graves?" A twinge of pain pulled at her cheek, then she found her way to the chair. "You don't think the Isfahan would know anything about Samantha, do you?" 

Mulder shook his head. "No. I was remembering when I accused you of sending the investigation down a path that would make us miss spectral phenomena." 

She sighed. "Oh, that. You saw plenty of what you claimed were spectral phenomena, if I remember your portion of the report correctly." 

He smirked. "Let's just say Lauren wasn't the partying type." He leaned as much toward his partner as his cast would allow. "But it was one of the few times I didn't end up flat on my back in a hospital after seeing something like that. Because I didn't run off. Because we worked together on the case, rather than my going off separately." 

She rose again. "But how does that apply here? You identified your sister's photo, so she must have been in Israel at one point, Mulder." 

He forced his face into a mask of calm. "At one point, but what about now? You've always emphasized to me the importance of proving something as many different ways as possible. We're investigating what the Consortium did with test subjects, one of whom may have been Samantha. Sure, she may have been in Israel at one point, but what if that turns out to be a dead end and the live leads turn up here? What good will being half a world away be then?" He struck his cast with his fist. "Don't tell me our parents need protection; I'd be no good defending anybody, Scully, I can't even hold my weapon properly until this comes off."

Closing her eyes, Scully nodded with relief. "Okay. If that's how you see it, then that's how we'll proceed." 

He rose. "I'm not shirking my responsibilities, not anymore. I promised you that in January, and I mean to keep my word. Now, if you're up to it, we have some planning to do." 

After quickly pulling her fingers though her hair, she stepped toward the door. "Sure, Chief."

He grinned at her back. "But thanks for thinking about it." 

She tossed a tiny smile over her shoulder.

\--o-0-o--

Dark Apartment  
Washington, DC  
Wednesday, September 17, 1997  
7:21 pm

A snick of a lighter, then the old man lit another Morley, drawing deeply on the tobacco. When the ash threatened to collapse from the end, he flicked it thoughtlessly onto the remains of his microwaved meal, pushing the similar colors and textures of the food out of his mind. _Well, you buzzard, you've survived another day. How many more, I wonder?_ Still contemplative, he carried the plastic tray to his kitchen to drop it into his nearly-empty trash can. 

A knock on the door had him stubbing the Morley against the wall, then racing for the pistol on his coffee table. "Yes?" 

"Guten Abend, mein Herr! Ich bin hier!" 

The wrinkled visage cracked into something approximating relief. But before he threw all caution to the wind, he checked through the spyhole and the open mail slot. _Alone. Good._ He unlocked the door. "Wie geht's?" 

The tall German who had hosted him so graciously stepped into his sparsely-furnished apartment. "Ah, my colleague, I prefer to practice my English on you." 

The old spy nodded. "Of course. I have no fine spirits to offer you, I fear." 

His guest shook his head. "That is not, how do your young people say, a problem?" He waited for the grey head to nod. "My diplomatic cover requires I attend some tedious gathering of your government officials. But I did want to use the opportunity to discuss a serious matter with you." 

The man with the Morleys waved him to a seat. "Ah. There is news on the chromosomal studies?" 

His guest flipped the tails of his tuxedo jacket before he sat on an ottoman, assuming as relaxed a posture as his military regimen permitted. "That would require a much longer stay than I can afford at this time. You will come to visit again, perhaps?" 

Reaching for the cardboard packet, the old man nodded. "Oh, I will. And in a more official capacity, from the viewpoint of the Organization." 

His guest cocked his head. "Oh? I should think..." 

The burning cylinder waved. "More later. What did you wish to tell me?" 

The German straightened. "Mossad has been poking very close to matters they should not, all in the name of finding one Samantha Mulder. The Middle East is such a volatile place, we have spun up a necessary distraction. But I need you to answer one question, which will tell me how far I must, as you say, stir the pot?" He smiled at the knowing nod. "You feel certain Caroline Podhowitz and her associates should be allowed to proceed? That there will be no permanent damage to the Project as a result?" 

The old man nodded, smoke issuing from his nostrils in waves. "They have one objective, Caroline and Max." He dropped the lighter beside the red and white box. "I have met with her in the not-too-distant past, and extracted a promise of secrecy from her. I have kept my side of the bargain, because Caroline Podhowitz is a woman who keeps her vows. She will tell her son and daughter nothing of what she knew of our work, especially if she is given a gentle reminder, shall we say?" He waited for his guest's dark eyes to clear in understanding. "Whatever young Mulder finds out, it will be of his own efforts, and it will serve my ends." 

The grey brows knitted. "Serve your ends?" 

"The American Organization can not be permitted to slide any further into division and inaction. My young associates presume to treat their collaboration as a *democracy*, of all things." A snort prompted him to continue. "What Mulder and Scully learn and expose will serve only to accelerate a process I did not initially think I would need to set in motion. But now I know I must." He held the cigarette so that he could watch the end burn down. 

The German sighed. "You were always the best at the riddles, Old Friend. You need something from me, though, or you would not have told me even this much." 

A nod. "Not now, but at a later time, I will need you to produce evidence and witnesses as I require." He held up his empty hand. "Nothing more than we have done many times in the past, in fact, much less. It is mere knowledge of the existence of this falsehood that is sufficient, not a full-blown lie." 

His tuxedoed guest rubbed his hands together. "If it will advance the Project, than it shall be yours. But I must admit, it will keep my mind off the tedious toasts and that quaint American sense of humor for this evening." 

The old spy rose. "Then perhaps it is already a fair exchange." He walked the German to the door to wave him on his way. Locking it, he nodded to himself. _Yes, I *have* survived another day._

\--o-0-o--

Lobby  
Dan Carmel Hotel  
Haifa, Israel  
Friday, September 19, 1997  
1:27 pm

Max rose when he spotted his old friend entering through the glass double doors. "Chaim! Here!" He waved the suited man to the sofa where he waited with Caroline, then introduced her succinctly. 

The grey-suited agent tucked his chin before turning to Max. "I've only had the news myself, and I wanted to bring it to you straight away. We have located the next leg of the Silverbergs' journey to America." 

Margaret Scully had walked up behind the Lowenbergs. "Then this is good news." 

Max rose. "Margaret Scully, Chaim Yassam. Chaim, Margaret. A friend from America. She knows everything we do, so speak to her as you would to us." 

Another nod from the agent, but with a shrug, he declined to take her hand. 

Margaret glanced downward to see a shrunken arm, then sat before she could exclaim in what she was sure was unwanted sympathy. 

Chaim took the armchair across from the three. "It is not as good as we originally had hoped. There was a bomb scare at Tel Aviv airport the day the Silverbergs were to depart, so they chose to take a cruise instead, thinking it would be safer for them all." 

Margaret frowned. "But I thought, except for the Achille Lauro, that was usually true." 

Chaim grasped his right wrist with his left hand to move the limb over to the padded armrest. "Oh, security wasn't the difficulty. But they took a Greek cruise boat with an Egyptian crew and it developed problems with its pumps while they were sailing south. The 'Egyptian Sunrise' was directed by its captain to Cairo, where he knew several mechanics. There, we lost track of it." He looked to Margaret. "This was before Camp David, you see, when our Egyptian allies were not as good with their records as we were. Several of the passengers transferred to other vessels, several took planes from Cairo. The Silverbergs were among those who transferred off the boat. We have inquiries waiting for us, but as with all things in Egypt," he explained as he waved his good hand, "these things take time." 

Max sighed. "So, Chaim, you think we should go to Egypt and speak with whom?" 

The agent reached into his pocket for a slip of paper. "This is my counterpart in Cairo who is looking into the matter. It is important that his identity not become widely known." 

Max glanced at the name, then returned the folded strip. "Very well." He smiled at Margaret. "Feel like visiting the Pyramids, Maudie?" 

The dark-haired woman's eyes glowed with anticipation.

Caroline chuckled. "When you do return to the States, Margaret, you'll have so many stories your children won't know what to do with you."

Chaim rose. "That's all I have, really." He bent over Caroline's, then Margaret's hands. "I wish it could be more." After exchanging a quick hug with Max, he stepped through the glass doors. 

Max shifted on the cushions. "Well, I think we have bags that need to be packed, ladies." He rose, then was thrown to the ground by a hot rush of air and glass. 

Margaret felt herself falling into darkness. _Dear Lord, no more!_

\--o-0-o--

Lobby  
Dan Carmel Hotel  
Haifa, Israel  
Friday, 1:53 pm

A keening whine broke into the cottony silence. Caroline Lowenberg shuddered, then awoke, coughing. "Max?" 

"Line-chen? Can you see Maudie?" 

The white-haired woman twisted, surprised that only her upper arms burned. "She's right here, Max. Margaret? Margaret?" 

The white-haired man rolled to his hands and knees. 

Margaret Scully waved frantically, then popped both eyes open. "What happened just now?" 

Max reached out for his wife, but she was already sitting up, attempting to focus on Margaret amid all the smoke and shouting. "Car bomb. Terrible to have this happen here in Haifa. Are you both all right?" 

Margaret brushed glass and cloth off her legs. "Oh, I think I'll need to go to the hospital." 

Caroline found she could crouch, so checked Margaret's calf. "I think so. The glass really did a number on you." Ignoring the cuts on her own arms, she ripped the stained cotton twill off her friend's legs, twisting it into a crude tourniquet. "Max?" 

The white-haired man was picking his way through the rubble outside to crouch by a too-still form, the shrunken arm thrown up over a bald head at an unnatural angle. He reached down to run his hand over the man's face, then returned to his wife's side. "Poor Chaim. He lost Gerda the same year I lost Thea. Oh, dear, Maudie." He disappeared through the ruined entrance to lead a paramedic team back through the smoke and cries for help. 

Caroline squeezed the dark-haired woman's hand as she walked beside her gurney to the ambulance. "It'll be all right, Margaret. Max will meet us at the hospital." 

Biting her lip, Margaret stifled a sob. "Caroline, do you think...?" 

The white-haired woman waited until they were settled in the ambulance. "They've been there over four thousand years, Margaret. We can take the time for you to recuperate back on Santorini, if that's what you're asking." She sent her friend an uneasy smile. "I think I could use the rest myself." 

Margaret gritted her teeth while the paramedics shifted her leg. "Dana doesn't need to know. She has enough on her mind as it is." 

Caroline sighed. "Yes. They both do, so for now, just concentrate on recovering. We've been away from home long enough."

\--o-0-o--

Capital Hill Rowhouse  
Washington, DC  
Saturday, September 20, 1997  
7:21 pm

McConnell paced the length of the porch, waiting for the rumble of a specific engine from around the corner. 

'Ace' poked her head out one of the windows. "Can you see him?" 

The red-haired man sighed. "No, not yet. How can we throw a surprise birthday party for him when he won't come home? There's nothing he needs to be working on this week for Matheson." 

They frowned at the purring of an expensive import. 

'Charlie' stuck his head out the other front window. "That sounds like him, finally." He disappeared into the darkness, waiting by the door with his lover. 

McConnell waved from the front steps as Lindhauer appeared, then, as a grey head emerged from the back seat, stopped. When a bald head with black glasses rose above the opposite side, he raced for the door. 

'Ace' and 'Charlie' dropped to their knees at his expression. 

McConnell's green eyes rolled toward the street. "Black Lung is with him. And the shape-shifter." 

'Ace' scrambled for the gun in the kitchen, returning just as the three men entered the house. 

When the old spy caught a glimpse of her in her firing stance, he burst out laughing. "Dearest Amanda, you always were the most prepared of the lot. But, all for naught, I'm afraid." The Morley waved. "This is the original article, not the imported fake. Your compatriot has something to tell you." Still amused, the Smoking Man used the lit end of his Morley to burst one of the Mylar balloons, watching as the silvered sphere jerked madly, the helium driving it in random swirls. He turned back to the conversation, letting it sink to the floor unnoticed. 

Lindhauer sighed. "He's real." He glanced around at the decorations. "I appreciate the gesture, but we have more serious matters to attend to right now."

McConnell settled in the armchair. "Oh, such as?" 

Lindhauer closed his eyes momentarily. "Mulder and Scully have been busy little bees while we've been otherwise engaged. They've been collecting evidence to verify nearly everything Saunders has told them about the Organization." 

From her seat at the dining room table, 'Ace' queried, "So? That's exactly what we expected they would do. Let them expose what was in the past. We've moved past all those operations in any case. They're chasing dead-end leads." 

Luther glared at her. "No! You can't let them do that. What they've uncovered will direct them, eventually, to the Groups in Europe and the Orient, which are still very active." Under the old man's approving gaze, he crossed his arms, then continued. "Just because it's old, don't assume it has no meaning or significance." He glared at the four in turn. "You've made a fatal mistake by underestimating your opponents. This isn't just Mulder running off to chase little green men while Scully has to scramble to pick up the pieces in his wake anymore. They're organized and unified in a way they haven't been in the past, which is dangerous, for all of us." 

When the balding man looked back, the grey head nodded. _Exactly proper. Throw more discord among our enemies._

Lindhauer whirled. "Don't you make the mistake of underestimating us. We still can pull strings ourselves. Why don't the pair of you crawl back under the rock you've found to hide beneath and watch us do our work? You might learn something, old man." He jabbed a pale finger in the old spy's chest to make his point. 

A new Morley was lit. "Believe me, I intend to do exactly that." He turned his back defiantly before he called to the man in the black glasses. They left the four alone. 

'Ace' re-engaged the safety. "Exactly what did you have in mind, 'Finn'?"

Lindhauer advanced to stare down at her, waiting until the other two were hovering close. "Just this..."

\--o-0-o--

Lowenberg Residence  
Santorini, Greece  
Wednesday, September 24, 1997  
4:21 pm

Max bent over the dark-haired woman drowsing in the lounge chair. "Maudie?" 

Attempting to smooth the deepening wrinkles in her white-haired host's face, Margaret mustered a smile. "Yes? I was just enjoying the sun. How are you?" 

Max shook his head. "I've lost too many old friends in my time. I'll be all right, but I'm glad we're home." His hazel eyes cleared. "But at least you and Caroline are safe." He tucked the blanket in around her legs. "And need looking after. All that female attention was beginning to get tiresome." 

Caroline, her arms wrapped in bandages, stepped out to join them. "Max, I have someone from Cairo who wishes to speak with you." 

The white-haired man rested his hand on his wife's back. "Good. Maybe it will be some news." 

Margaret smiled up at Caroline Lowenberg. "How do you feel today?" 

She moved one of the canvas chairs over. "Not nearly as stiff as I expected to be. Still, this was a little more adventure than I was anticipating. I hope it's good news."

Margaret closed her eyes. "So do I."

\--o-0-o--

Dark Apartment  
Washington, DC  
Wednesday, 12:24 pm

The old man had the cordless phone on his ear before the first ring ended. "Yes?" He tamped the cigarette in his overflowing ashtray.

The thick voice at the other end spoke hesitantly. "Mossad is very close." 

"Good! I want them to be. Let the search for Samantha Mulder proceed unencumbered. It's kept the opponents from Atlantis occupied and away from Mister Mulder, just as I said it would." 

A growl. "There is another matter that we need to address." 

The grey head cocked as the black unit was pressed between cheek and shoulder. "Oh? My young associates have approached you with a plan to derail the upcoming trial that they so foolishly permitted to occur?" 

"Exactly." 

He lit a new Morley with his silver lighter. "I have an idea what they have asked you to do. You should proceed to offer your expertise and assistance, but with the following changes." 

A deep chuckle. "If you ever walk a straight line, old friend, I will worry for your mental stability." 

A blue stream of smoke crossed the room. "So will I. Now, listen..."

\--o-0-o--

Safe House  
Charleston, South Carolina  
Sunday, September 28, 1997  
2:16 pm

Jarred Stone circled the conference room he had commandeered for a mock trial, surveying the stacks of papers and documents scattered around the tables. "Well, my friends, I think we've put together a case that can't be beat." 

Immediately, five heads lifted, then nods passed between the four agents in the room. Mulder and Scully were seated at the defense table, while Rosen and Nichols were representing the prosecution.

Glancing at her partner, Scully rubbed her forearms. "We have enough here to differentiate us from the mass of UFO cultists that see aliens everywhere. We have a focus here, such as we never had before." She looked to the other two agents, offering her thanks in a slight creasing of her cheeks. "And we never could have done this by ourselves." 

Saunders, however, scowled at the collected group. "But that's going to be the problem. You've successfully shown that a clandestine Organization has been operating unchallenged for decades to advance an agenda of planetary defense." 

Rosen crossed her arms. "That the Group exists is its most closely guarded secret, but they've left too much behind for those who know where to look. We've excavated and autopsied the bodies from the Hansen's Disease center. We have the mutated mitochondrial DNA from the warehouses. We have the DNA with three base pairs rather than two. We have the UV signatures. We have a paper trail that shows the growth of the Organization from your think-tank to the distributed sites across the country. Who can argue with this accumulation of evidence?" 

Nichols shook his head. "That may be our downfall." He patted the closest stack. "If this case were coming before a panel of jurists, we'd have no problem. But we aren't. We're presenting it to twelve ordinary Americans, who don't see the difference between global conspiracies and a tightly controlled think-tank that talks only to other small, powerful organizations. Our defense is essentially a prosecution, a distraction from the fact that we only have, at its base, a simple murder case." 

Saunders' dark eyes narrowed. "Now we get to it. It's my word that I was defending myself. All the prosecution needs to show is that I have killed before to weaken the self-defense argument by association." He glared at Mulder. "They could force you to testify about what you've seen. That would shake this case at its foundation in the minds of the jury." 

Scully shifted to face her partner, whose only response was a brief motion with his head. She prompted him further, "What?" 

Mulder sighed. "It happened when you were in North Georgetown, Scully. I saw..." He rubbed his eyes. "I watched, oh, I'll tell you about it later." 

Rosen stood. "But where are the bodies? Where are the men he supposedly executed?" She waved her arms at the scattered folders. "We have the evidence, right here. The rest are all tales flying around the air." 

Nichols reached for her corded hand, pulling her back into her seat. "That's just the problem, Ros, we aren't talking about scientists, engineers, and lawyers. Juries believe eyewitnesses, not evidence. If there's a contradiction, they'll go with the person, not the piles of paper." 

Stone chuckled, a deep rumble that silenced the others. "Well, that's where I come in. Part of this job is salesmanship. I've won convictions challenging the jury to think for themselves, guiding them slowly through day after day of testimony. The trick is not to pour it on too fast, to give them time to digest, and to have a simple message." Crossing his arms, he rocked back onto his heels, a gesture Mulder recognized as his only sign that he was fatigued. 

The dark-haired agent slumped down in his chair. "And what would that message be, Jarred?" 

Stone looked over, letting his broad grin stretch his face. "That our Mister Saunders, after a lifetime of duplicity, finally chose to do the right thing and come forward. But that his past refused to let him go." 

Saunders snorted. "You're turning me into a victim here!" 

The towering attorney nodded. "Exactly. The jury will relate to that." He rotated his shoulders. "Anyone can have a past that clings to them like a millstone. In the meantime, I suggest you four take yourselves off back to DC. Make sure your apartments haven't gone up in smoke." He grinned at the nods of agreement. "The Grand Jury has finished its deliberations. The arraignment is on Tuesday. I'll be up Monday night, after I say my own farewells."

\--o-0-o--

End - Zurvan - Chapter III - Zion


	4. Daughter of Metis

\-----o---------------------------------------------o-----

Chapter IV - Daughter of Metis 

\-----o---------------------------------------------o-----

Then, Athena, child of Zeus whose shield is thunder,   
letting fall her supple robe at the Father's threshold-   
rich brocade, stitched with her own hands' labor -   
donned the battle-shirt of the lord of lightning,   
buckled her breastplate geared for wrenching war   
and over her shoulders slung her shield, all tassels   
flaring terror-Panic mounted high in a crown around it,   
Hate and Defense across it, Assault to freeze the blood   
and right in their midst the Gorgon's monstrous head,   
that rippling dragon horror, sign of storming Zeus.   
Then over her brows Athena placed her golden helmet   
fronted with four knobs and forked with twin horns,   
engraved with the fighting men of a hundred towns.   
Then onto the flaming chariot Pallas set her feet   
and seized her spear-weighted, heavy, the massive shaft   
she wields to break the battle lines of heroes   
the mighty Father's daughter storms against.

Homer: The Iliad  
Translated by  
Robert Fagles

\-----o---------------------------------------------o-----

X-Files Offices   
Second Floor   
J. Edgar Hoover Building   
Monday, September 29, 1997   
6:12 am

Dana Scully slipped her key into the deadbolt, her forehead wrinkling when it turned freely. _Someone's here already?_ By instinct, she noiselessly set her briefcase and coat on the floor, then reached for her SIG while she knelt to check through the crack under the door. No yellow glow had spilt out into the hallway at her approach, only the pale white of the city lights through her window. But if there was an intruder inside, she needed to be as cognizant of his location as he would be now that someone waited without. 

_That's not what I expected._ There was indeed a person in her office, a slight willowy form slumped over the desk by the door. _Why is she?_ Still holding her weapon, she depressed the handle, letting the door swing all the way to the wall before she sidled in, pointing at all the corners of the outer office. The even breathing from the woman at the narrow desk told her Cynthia was just sleeping, not injured by a late-night visitor, or, worse, dead. Scully took a moment to scan Mulder's office, shaking her head at the piles of papers growing at impossible angles from his conference table. 

Finally content, she holstered her SIG, then set her bags on her desk before kneeling by their secretary. _What was it? Her Calculus test wasn't for two weeks. Her Chemistry class only has a mid-term. Rosen would have said something if she was having trouble with her Introductory Geology class._ Scully examined the smooth round face gently, surprised to spot dried tear tracks in the low light. Her green-blue eyes twinkled at her next thought. _Boyfriend troubles. Oh, to be twenty-three again._ Noting that there was a floppy stuck in its slot, she reached behind the chair to tap the shift key, then frowned. 

_What is this? A letter of resignation? Cynthia?_ Finally, she brushed the brunette's shoulder with her thumb, calling her softly. 

Cynthia awoke slowly, her eyes focusing on Scully, breaking into that wide toothy grin the agent knew so well. Then the light went out of the secretary's hazel eyes, her shoulders drooping as she turned away. "Forgive me, Agent Scully, I've done a terrible thing." 

Still kneeling, Scully shifted around to look Cynthia in the eye. "What?" _What could possibly be wrong for someone so young?_

Cynthia scrubbed her nose with her index finger. "I broke up with Gil yesterday." 

Both eyebrows arched, Scully glanced at the floor before offering her sympathy, "I'm sorry to hear that. But..." 

Throwing a long strand of hair that had fallen in front of her shoulders aside, Cynthia shook her head fiercely. "No, you don't understand." She broke into a fresh spate of tears, then hit the calendar pad angrily with both fists. "It wasn't that we didn't get along, or something childish, it's because of who he is." 

Scully rose. "Cynthia, tell me." 

The brunette dug through a folder, pulling out a glossy of Lindhauer to wave at the auburn-haired agent. "It's him." Cynthia hugged herself. "Danny sent these directly to you; he didn't go through me so I didn't know for a while, not until you brought these folders back from the safe house. When I saw the papers yesterday afternoon, I knew. You don't know this, but I thought the name Gil was our private little joke. He said it went with some other nickname he had. I thought it was just because he liked scuba diving." 

Scully rested her hand on her shoulder. "Tell me, does he know you know?" 

Cynthia shook her head. "I don't think so. We'd been having troubles getting along because he was so dark and angry all the time, so I just called him to tell him I didn't think we should see each other anymore. I didn't want to go back to my apartment, and I couldn't call you and tell you." 

After flicking on the lights, Scully hauled one of their green-cushioned armless aluminum chairs over. "So you were going to resign and leave us?" Scully held the slight hand between her own. "We couldn't let you go; you need our help, our protection. Staying here was probably the safest thing you could do for yourself." Leaning away, she reached for the phone on the desk. "This is something the four of us need to discuss with you." 

Cynthia blanched. "You're telling Agent Mulder?" 

One hand on the receiver, the other on the buttons, Scully cocked her head. "Of course. He won't hate you, you know. It isn't like you've been spying on us all along for them. But we will need to know anything you might have told him." Noting that the woman's hands were still trembling, Scully reached out for them. "It'll be okay. We'll take care of you." 

Cynthia nodded. "I hope so. I'm so sorry. If I had known, I never..." 

Shaking her head, Scully spoke quietly into the hand unit. "Mulder, get in here. We have a problem."

\--o-0-o--

Still unshaven, his gold-dotted red tie slightly askew, Mulder pushed though the front door of their offices to find Scully and the other agents already waiting. Rosen was swathed in her running tights, Nichols as unkempt as himself. But it was their secretary that he had come to see, so it was to the woman at the desk that he turned. "Cynthia?"

The simple request provoked an unexpected response. The slight brunette flung herself across the room, then into his arms, apologizing through her tears, "I didn't know! If I'd known, I never would have..." 

Instinctively, he began shushing her, rubbing her back and shoulders, while looking to his partner for assistance. Scully's expression told him she was as confounded by the emotional display as was he, so he fell back on the palliatives he used with confused witnesses. "It's okay. Really. It's okay." 

Nichols stepped forward, disengaging Cynthia from Mulder to drape one arm around the thin shoulders. "Come'on, let it out. You're safe with us." 

The words provoked more weeping, then slowly, the intelligent young woman they respected emerged to begin to conquer her fears. "I feel like such a traitor to all of you, sleeping with the enemy and all. After everything that you've done for me, to have let this happen. I don't know how you can ever forgive me."

Rosen began patting Cynthia's face with a Kleenex. "None of us think you're a traitor, sweetheart, just a slight leak. Come on into the big office and tell us all what you can." 

Nodding, Cynthia allowed Nichols to settle her into the recliner. "I never told him anything specific." She hiccuped as she rubbed her face again. "But he always wanted to know when you were going to be away. I thought it was just so we could spend more time together." 

The four agents had stationed themselves around the room. Mulder and Scully were leaning against his large desk, while Rosen and Nichols had moved conference table chairs to either side of Cynthia. 

Rosen continued to hold the younger woman's hand, rubbing her palm with her muscled thumb. "He never saw any files?" 

She shook her head. "I know how serious what you four are doing is, so I never took anything out of the office, not even an address or phone number. I'd complain about the amount of paperwork, or when something wouldn't be approved on your travel claims, but nothing more than that." 

Nodding, Mulder turned to his partner. "So, what does this mean? The Shadows have been aware of our movements, of specifics, all along?" 

Scully glanced at their secretary sympathetically. "I don't think so, Mulder. I think it's more an indication of disagreements among them than anything else. We've been dodging wiretaps on our phones since the section expanded, especially since our computers came off the Bureau net. If they were getting everything they needed from electronic surveillance," she pondered, gesturing towards Cynthia, "this would be an unnecessary risk, wouldn't you say?" 

Mulder chewed his lower lip, then walked around to his chair. "More like an act of bravado, if you ask me." 

Crossing her arms over her stomach, Cynthia stared at them both. "You mean, it was a game to him? But he said he loved me." 

Rosen collected the long brown waves at the back of Cynthia's neck. "'Fraid so. Men will say a lot of things they don't mean."

Nichols sent his partner an odd little glance, then looked to Mulder and Scully. Neither of them seemed to want to pursue the matter, so he let it drop, focusing on the woman in the chair. "You'll need to collect whatever personal belongings you want to take with you, Cyndie." 

Mulder rose to lean over the desk. "Why don't you two go with her while she does. Anybody have a spare bedroom for tonight?" 

Scully nodded. "You're welcome to stay with me." 

Nichols helped the young woman to her feet. "That's probably best. My place is a wreak, unless you don't mind tripping over carboys and kegs." 

Rosen stepped back to let the pair precede her out the door. "Yeah, I'm still living out of boxes, too." 

The gentle banter reassured their secretary, so the three headed for the hall. 

Scully closed the interconnecting door after she heard Rosen's key turn in the lock. "Now what? Do we place her in the witness protection program? We have the preliminary hearing for Saunders beginning tomorrow."

Mulder rubbed his face. "You got me, Scully." He moved out from behind his desk. "I need some coffee." As he passed his partner, he checked her face. "How did you find out about this?" 

She followed him into the outer office. "She was here when I came in early this morning. She had prepared a letter of resignation." Scully pointed to the desk. "It's still there, if you want to read it." 

Mulder bent over, running his eyes quickly over the patterns on the screen. "I was always afraid of something like this. The more people in on what we've uncovered, the greater a chance of a leak. You think her story's legit?" 

Checking the water level, Scully sighed. "Yes. We've known her for almost a year now. She'd have to be a really great actress to create as complete a cover story as her presence here would have required. I've spoken with her mother several times on the phone." 

Mulder looked over. "Oh?" 

Scully tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "Yes, back when she broke up with her old boyfriend, Jarls. He was from her hometown and her Mom really liked him." She frowned at her partner. "You didn't know?" 

Mulder straightened. "It's not the sort of detail I'd keep track of." He rubbed his chin. "The Mom's voice was the same?" 

Scully nodded. "I learned more about the decidedly un-romantic life of a farmer's wife in the course of those conversations than I ever needed to know, Mulder." Her left cheek creased. "I'll bet I could deliver a calf or two based on what she told me." 

Mulder stepped back around to the coffee-maker. "Yeah. Great."

\--o-0-o--

Rowhouse  
Capitol Hill  
Monday, 8:23 am

Doug McConnell waited outside the black door of his colleague's home. "'Finn'?" After pacing the length of the porch several times, he heard feet pounding across the wood floor inside. Through the lace curtains, he saw a figure cross towards him. 

Lindhauer poked an unshaven, rumpled head out. "Oh, it's you. Come on in." 

McConnell threw the deadbolt behind him. "What's wrong? Don't you remember that we have that committee meeting today?" 

Still stripped down to the black briefs he had slept in, Lindhauer rubbed his long nose. "That. Sorry. I was a bit busy last night." 

McConnell's green eyes narrowed. "What? A new girlfriend? I thought the last one taught you something." 

Lindhauer glowered down at him. "New? I didn't know about new." 

McConnell slid out of his Harris tweed longcoat, draping it over his arm. "You didn't fall for her, did you? I thought you were going to break it off back in August." 

Heading back to his bedroom, Lindhauer shrugged. "Yeah, well, sometimes a little corn gets in between your teeth and it's tough to get it out." He spun. "Yeah, I fell for the little dairy maid. So? It'll happen to you eventually. Besides, it's over." 

McConnell crossed his arms. "Tell me." 

Lindhauer tossed a charcoal grey Armani suit on his unmade bed, then yanked a tailored white button-down shirt from its hanger. "She called me, told me she was sorry my work had been bothering me so much, but that she didn't think we should see each other anymore." He hit himself in the chest. "Get it? She called me." He shoved his arm angrily in the left sleeve. "I went over to her place. I didn't know what I was thinking, but when she wasn't there, I took it apart." 

McConnell stepped forward, dropping the coat on the foot of the bed to pass his colleague a black belt that was draped over a chair stationed there. "You did what?" He ducked when two black leather projectiles flew out of the closet in his general direction. 

Lindhauer emerged, hopping on one foot as he tugged a sock up. "You heard me. I trashed the place. Turned over every piece of furniture Miss Cow Pie had. Just like we did to Scully's apartment, only better." 

McConnell's jaw dropped. _I'll deal with the anger later, after he cools down._ "Did you at least wear gloves?" 

Lindhauer threw the question back at him, mocking his nasal Texas twang. "Did you at least wear gloves? Of course I did. Do I need to remind you who had the art world up in arms just over a year ago?" He buttoned his shirt with quick, angry jerks. "I even bashed in the doorframe to make it look like breaking and entering." He glared at the red-haired man. "I hope she's not..." He stuck out his gut in an obscene approximation of a swelling belly. 

McConnell's eyes narrowed. "I hope you used protection."

Lindhauer's first answer was a long glare. "I *always* use gloves. But still, they're not foolproof. I wonder where she ran off to?" 

McConnell walked to Lindhauer's phone, then tapped a button on the Caller ID box. "The number's from the Bureau. She must have spent the night there." 

Lindhauer snorted. "Maybe she called it off because she's found that broody boss of hers better in the sack than me." The narrower end of a yellow slip of silk slapped at his chest. 

McConnell’s red curls waved as he shook his head. "Maybe she finally knows who you are." 

Lindhauer's shoulders sagged. "Yeah. Maybe. Maybe that's all it is." 

McConnell lifted his coat off the bed. "Maybe that's all? That's it? Do you have any idea how dangerous this game you were playing was?" He clutched the wool to his chest. "Has she been pumping you for information on us?" 

Lindhauer stepped into his shoes. "She doesn't have the sense to do that. Besides, we didn't talk all that much." He thrust his hips forward. "If you catch my drift. I never got more out of her than when the happy crew was out of town. If I was lucky, I found out where." He headed for his bathroom. "It's not like 'Ace' didn't already have that information for us." 

Waiting outside the bathroom, McConnell sighed. "You hurt her, you know." 

His face covered with white lather, Lindhauer appeared in the doorway. "Who? 'Ace'?" 

McConnell nodded. "She thinks you don't trust her abilities anymore." 

The water running as he shaved, Lindhauer raised his voice. "Oh? It's not her abilities that are in question here. Just her attentions." He jerked when the razor bit into his chin. "Ow."

McConnell passed Lindhauer a scrap of toilet paper. "Yeah. We've managed to keep Mulder and his crew tied up preparing for the trial and she's got money moving without a trace, but there are other problems she needs to put her mind to, not just how to please 'Charlie'." 

Lindhauer patted his face clean. "Now that she's no longer with the Bureau, I thought she'd be concentrating on strategies for us. No wonder we haven't heard from her in a while." Finally prepared, he waited for McConnell to step back out of the bathroom. As he collected the papers and documents he would need for a day at the Senate, he chewed his lip before he stated, "We'll have to stop by to see how those two are coming along with the overseas planning tonight." 

McConnell nodded, relieved that his three associates were finally back on track. "I need to tell you what the old man has been pumping me for."

While locking the door, Lindhauer nodded. "On the way to the Office Building. We'll need to stop by Starbucks." 

McConnell pointed to the BMW at the curb. "Nope. It's in the car. Let's go."

\--o-0-o--

Federal Courthouse  
Roanoke, Virginia  
Tuesday, September 30, 1997  
10:03 am

Jarred Stone nodded to Saunders when he took his seat at the defense table. The rest of the X-Files team had arranged themselves in the first row behind him, Cynthia comfortable ensconced between Scully and Rosen. Walter Skinner, still not fully at ease with Phil Nichols, had slid into the spot next to Mulder, which had sent him edging closer to his diminutive partner. 

The dark-haired agent touched her sleeve, bringing her green-blue eyes to his face. "Hey." 

Scully's lips twitched. "You sleep okay?" 

After twisting around to take the judge's bench out of his line of sight, he nodded. "Yeah. These are only the preliminaries. I probably won't have to testify anytime soon. How's she holding up?" 

Scully's eyes flicked towards Cynthia before replying. "Oh, about as you would expect. She's been thrown several curves over the past few days." 

At that moment, the bailiff emerged from the judge's chambers, then the assembled audience was called to its feet. Judge Mary Rivers entered to ascend the steps to the dais. 

The woman who surveyed the courtroom was white-haired, tiny, smaller than the auburn-haired agent she favored with a nod. Mulder and Scully had brought a few of their non-X-Files cases into her court. She always made it a point to recognize those women who, like herself, refused to let slightness of stature intimidate them. A wave of shuffling and coughing followed the creak of her tall chair as she settled into the stiff leather cushion. Once the gravity of her office settled like a second robe over her shoulders, she felt the slight tingle she always did when casting off her life as wife, mother, and two-time grandmother. 

Judge Rivers accepted the records of the grand jury deliberations from the African-American bailiff with shrunken, age-spotted hands. Those, as well as the wrinkles showing the inevitable losses of youth to time, were her only concession to her advanced years. Setting her reading glasses on the tip of her nose, she scanned the sheets before her, then crossed her hands over the document. She leaned forward. “Tyrell Lewis Saunders? Please rise.” 

Stone stood alongside the African-American. 

The white-haired woman rested her glasses on the bench. “You are charged with two counts of Second Degree Murder. How do you plead?” 

“Not guilty, Your Honor.” The words were spoken without any of the force or intensity Mulder was used to hearing. 

She nodded. “Very well. I see your attorney is present.” She gestured for both men to sit. As her gaze fell to the pages before her, she lifted her glasses to set them on her nose again. Studying the charges listed, she tapped her forehead, then raised her eyes to the Prosecutor's bench. "Mister Pollack?" 

The balding man stood. "Yes, Your Honor?" 

Judge Rivers set her glasses on the papers. "I see Tyrell Saunders has no prior arrests or convictions?" 

The Chief Prosecutor smoothed his Italian tie. "That's correct, you honor." The man chosen to head up the prosecutorial team had lost the battle to age. His hair had nearly all gone to grey and was thinning, unlike his tall form, which was thickened noticeably about the middle. His face remained lean, the sag in his cheeks and neck emphasizing his already narrow and pointed nose, at the end of which were balanced tortoiseshell half-lenses for reading. But the agility of his youth remained in his slender, mobile hands, forever twitching or twisting at one of the gold pens he tucked, beside four others, into his grey suit jacket.

The Judge faced Stone, who had unfolded himself from his oak chair. "Good morning, Jarred. Good to see you again." 

Stone bowed over the table. "And you, Your Honor." 

Judge Rivers then addressed Saunders. "Mister Saunders." 

The African-American rose. "Ma'am." 

Judge Rivers laid one hand on the other. "I’m sorry we should meet again under such unfortunate circumstances." 

X dipped his head. "As am I, Ma'am." 

As the three men sat, Rivers faced the prosecutor again. "Mister Saunders has brought cases into this court frequently." 

Mulder and Scully glanced at each other. 

"So I know-" Rivers replaced her silver-framed glasses on her nose. "-or would like to *think* I know a little about this gentleman's character. Further, he is being held in witness protection, under guard for another matter. Yet I see here-" She held up a folder. "-that you wish to take the highly unusual step of having him held without bail for the duration of the trial. Explain this to me, if you would be so kind." She waited. 

The Chief Prosecutor cleared his throat. "Given the seriousness of the charges, Your Honor, we thought it only right that he be kept off the streets." 

Judge Rivers eyed him over her lenses. "As if he were a dangerous man?" 

Stone rose. "Your Honor, my client has no prior conv - "

She held up her hand. "You don't need to argue this case with me, Mister Stone." She lowered her gavel to its granite sounding pad. "Mister Saunders has been free but under the protection of the Federal Bureau of Investigations for several months now, which has been sufficient to keep him from embarking on some killing spree. Request to remand without bail is hereby denied. I'll set the amount at ten thousand dollars." She faced Stone. "I presume that will place your client in no financial hardship?" 

After a glance at Saunders, Stone shook his head. "None, Your Honor." 

Facing the prosecutor, she held the long folder aloft. "I see you have requested that the trial itself commence two weeks from the date of the preliminary hearing? I take it that your case is very nearly prepared?" 

The prosecutor rose. "Yes, Your Honor."

She eyed Stone. "Is that agreeable to you, Mister Stone?" 

Stone nodded. "Yes, Your Honor." 

She tapped the gavel again. "Very well. Gentlemen, I'll see you back here for the preliminary." She passed the folder to the bailiff, who placed another in her hands. "Are council present in the case of Walter Rickover?" 

The agents and attorneys knew they had been dismissed, so filed out down the center aisle, Mulder and Scully hanging back until Stone and Saunders caught up to them. Nichols and Rosen guided Cynthia to one of the benches in the hall, waiting for the others. 

Once gathered around the slender brunette on the carved marble slab, Stone jammed his hands in his grey wool pockets. "Well, I don't think this case will ever come to trial, after all your excellent labors." 

Scully arched one auburn brow. "Judge Rivers?" 

The long-jawed attorney nodded. "Exactly. I suspect our opponents will try to come to a settlement, just to keep from arguing before a judge whose has prior contact with the defendant." 

Saunders crossed his arms. "Nonsense. There is a hidden agenda operating here: discrediting me and whatever evidence you have in a public forum. That can't proceed if this never goes to trial." He waited to speak until the Prosecutor, surrounded by his team as he shouted instructions to one of his subordinates, had swirled past them. "There. You see they're already on the way to the Clerk of the Court, just to make sure Judge Rivers isn't the one trying this case." 

Mulder looked to his partner before he suggested, "If you offer a plea bargain now, and they turn us down..." 

Rosen crossed her arms. "We'll have at least determined their intentions." 

Nichols glanced down at Cynthia, who was biting the edge of her finger. "That's fairly typical in situations like this, Cyndie. If this were a drug trial, we'd never take it directly to court, especially with the question of self-defense hanging over the case." 

Scully sighed. "I think Stone is right. This case will never come to trial, at least not here in Virginia. Since this is a federal crime, and since Judge Rivers is the most senior jurist, they'll try to move it out of this district." 

Rosen walked over to stand beside her. "But for maximum exposure, they'll need to keep the case on the East Coast, just out of the DC area." 

Mulder rubbed his chin. "Not New York." 

Stone chuckled. "Certainly not. It would take so long to come to trial there that their efforts to discredit us would lose all meaning. It has to come to another east coast district." 

Mulder shook his head. "But where?"

\--o-0-o--

Federal Courthouse  
Roanoke, Virginia  
Tuesday, October 7, 1997  
10:01 am

Fox Mulder leaned away from Cynthia, on his right, who was still smirking at his sotto voce comment about the over-sized, out-pointing ears of one of the Marshals, before he turned to his partner, on his left. “Looks like the whole town turned out this time, Doctor.” 

She tipped her chin up at him. “I know. I overheard several comments I didn’t expect in the nineteen-nineties from two men a couple of rows back.” Her green-blue gaze flicked momentarily to over her right shoulder. 

He sobered. “Yeah. Roanoke’s not Maycomb.” 

She shifted on her seat, her fingers sliding along her waistband a few inches. “Nor is it Mayberry. I don’t like being without my weapon, Mulder, even if we are in a federal courtroom.” 

Nichols, to Scully’s left, nodded in agreement to his partner, seated next to him. Walter Skinner, from his place on the aisle, leaned forward to respond, but all quieted as the door to the judge’s chambers opened, then the bailiff stepped through. 

“All rise.” The two words brought the packed courtroom to its collective feet. The judge replacing Mary Rivers was the youngest jurist on the circuit, a Hispanic lawyer, newly elevated by President Clinton, James Perez. 

He settled himself quickly, then with one quick tap of his gavel, called his court into session. “In the matter of United States versus Tyrell Lewis Saunders, this preliminary hearing has begin. Mister Saunders has pleaded “Not Guilty” to the two capital charges brought against him.” He turned to the prosecutor’s bench. “Mister Pollack, would you make your case, Sir.” 

Pollack rose. “Your Honor, our case is simple. Mister Saunders was found, alone, in a locked chamber, holding the weapon that killed the decedents. Furthermore, he confessed to killing the two men while under no duress. We call Assistant Director Walter Skinner to the stand.” 

A nod to the agents on his left, before the bald director walked to the front, took the oath, then settled on the hard oak seat. 

After the oak legs of his seat scraped the wide floorboards, Pollack crossed over to begin pacing in front of the former Marine. “Mister Skinner, would you please relate the events following your return to consciousness on the evening of Friday, August 8, 1997?” 

The Assistant Director spoke simply, relating in a few sentences the interactions between Saunders and himself.

Pollack waved a long, thin hand. “Very well. That will be sufficient, Mister Skinner. You may stand down.” After the witness seat was empty, he looked up at the judge. “Your Honor, this is the Prosecution’s case, stated plainly and simply. We request that Tyrell Lewis Saunders be bound over for trial on two counts of murder in the Second Degree.” 

Judge Perez studied Saunders, who was sitting calmly, waiting, then, with a sigh, he began issuing his ruling. “Mister Saunders, I sense there is much more here than these plain and simple facts. But, at this moment, I must concur with the Prosecution. You have posted bail and have been free on your on recognizance, while under witness protection for the FBI on a different investigation, is that correct?” 

The legs of Jarred Stone’s oak chair pushed back, then the towering attorney straightened to his full height. “You are correct, Your Honor, on both counts.” 

“Hum.” The gavel tapped again. “Then, this matter will proceed to trial.” 

The courtroom erupted in shouts and gasps. 

One of the two who had caught Scully’s attention rose to begin shouting. “This case should be settled now! A black man has admitted killing two white officers of the law! What is hard about that?” 

Judge Perez rose. “Order! I will have order in this court!” He pointed with the head of the gavel. “Bring those two men forward!” The bailiffs attempted to reach the men, but were blocked by several others around him. The shouting continued, bringing several Marshals in from the hallway. 

Mulder nodded to Scully, then the partners rose, pushing through the low double gate with Nichols, Rosen, and Skinner to surround Saunders and Stone. Cynthia had slumped into a wide-eyed huddle. 

“Order!” The Judge was commanding again. “I will have order!” 

The group around the two protesters began shouting as if orchestrated. “Murderer! Murderer!” They pushed back on the Marshals. 

Scully looked up at her partner. “We didn’t know how they would get the trial moved, but this will be enough!” She reached for her weapon, then shook her head. 

One of the Marshals shouted into the radio clipped on his collar, then the Courtroom filled with local police. Between the officers and the Marshals, the high space was cleared of the protesters. 

Judge Perez tapped the gavel twice. “Would the attorneys for the prosecution and defense approach the bench?” He leaned over once the two arrived. “Mister Stone, if you request a change of venue, I would most certainly grant it.” 

With a sigh, the towering attorney nodded. “I don’t think my client will get a fair trial otherwise, Your Honor.” 

Perez waited for the two men to return to their benches. “Given the events that have just transpired, the Defense has requested a change of venue, and I have granted it. Both the Prosecution and the Defense will be notified as required.” Another tap of the gavel. “Court will recess for forty-five minutes.” 

“All rise!” The judge descended. 

Saunders leaned over to Stone. “Feel like we’ve just been played?” 

A long hand grasped his shoulder. “Indeed, my friend, Indeed.”

\--o-0-o--

Townhouse  
Reston, Virginia  
Wednesday, October 22, 1997  
7:32 pm

'Charlie' unlocked the third dead bolt on his steel front door. "Lisa? You here?" 

The muffled response told him she was in the basement, so he trotted through the living room, then the kitchen, to the stairs to make his descent. 

The lower floor of their joint residence looked just like her old apartment, with monitors, dismembered chassis, computer cards, and software everywhere. Being something of a neatnick himself, he had restricted the mess to this floor, where they could close it off and relax. 

The brunette looked up from her installation, then jumped back at a series of sparks. "No! That was my dual Pentium Pro! I *need* that!" She glared at the fleshy man who had entered. "You distracted me and it shorted." She began pacing the cluttered space, pulling free of his outstretched hands. "I hate being trapped down here all day." 

'Charlie' sighed. _This isn't working out the way I wanted._ "I have some good news about the trial." 

She stopped in her perambulations to focus on him. "What?" 

He took this opportunity to pin her against the stair railing. "The trial's being moved out of the area, just the way we planned." 

'Ace' pushed her way past him. "Good. Now I just need a replacement motherboard and Lord knows what else." 

He wrapped his arms around her waist. "Okay. We can stop by Microcenter when we go out for dinner." 

She pushed him away. "You must be kidding me. We can't afford to eat out like this! With the wedding coming up, we need to save all the money we can. And with this-" She snarled as she extended her arm, anti-static cable swinging from her wrist. "-we'll be spending several hundred dollars for a replacement." 

He waved the objection away. "Oh, that. The Organization will pay for it, no problem." 

The cable whipping through the air, she crossed her arms. "No! I need to order something tonight! My credit card is nearly maxed out with-" She sneered in her frustration. "-flowers and taffeta, so I can't buy one. What about yours?" 

He stared at the floor despondently. "I had a surprise picked out for you." 

She threw the wristband to the floor. "Drew! The Singapore banks have upgraded their computer security systems. I'll be working through the night to crack their new codes and I was counting on having the processor power of that board to do the job. With my access to the Bureau machines terminated, that," she chided as she pointed again, "was all I had! Now, are you going to help me or not?" 

'Charlie' glared. "Okay. I'll call 'Andrew'. He's such a tightwad I'll bet his cards have never been used." 

Tapping her foot, she watched him dial, then hang up. "Well?" 

He shrugged. "He's not home yet." 

She stomped for the stairs. "Then neither am I." She was out the front door before he could catch her.

\--o-0-o--

X-Files Offices  
J. Edgar Hoover Building  
Washington, DC  
Thursday, October 23, 1997  
2:27 pm

Holding one long, bony hand by the wrist with the other, Jarred Stone stood politely in the aisle between Cynthia's and Scully's desks. The office had been empty upon his arrival, but not locked. He turned when he heard Scully's quick, precise steps ringing down the tiled halls.

The agent smiled when she spotted the loose-limbed attorney, who looked like a schoolboy waiting in the Principal's foyer. "Stone? What brings you here?" 

A thick folder still in his hand, Mulder poked his head through his office door. "Jarred? How long have you been out there?" He dropped the papers on the recliner, then stepped out, pushing down his sleeves. "You should have poured yourself some coffee, at least."

Stone bowed his head apologetically. "Well," he opened, drawing the word out into his longest drawl, "I have good news and bad news, mah friends." 

Mulder reached for an extra mug, putting it down at a shake from the long head. "Go on." 

Scully leaned against Cynthia's desk. "The trial’s been moved." 

Stone nodded. "Yep. That was my good news. We'd figured out their strategy too perfectly." 

Mulder spread his hands. "Where?" 

A long-armed shrug. “Pittsburgh.”

Scully crossed her arms. “When?”

The lanky attorney scraped the heel of one black Gucci across the tiled floor. "Monday." He waited for outbursts of surprise that never came. 

Instead, Scully was punching numbers into the phone on Cynthia's desk, relaying the bare information to Rosen, followed by instructions to bring Nichols and herself upstairs. 

Mulder touched Stone's elbow. "How did they get the slot on the docket open so fast? I thought you said we could expect next month?" 

Stone smiled sadly. "I have to agree with Mister Saunders. This hornet's nest of an Organization you've managed to land a rock on really wants this over with, but on their terms." 

Mulder looked over at his partner. "I wonder what they have planned?"

\--o-0-o--

Federal Courthouse  
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania  
Wednesday, October 29, 1997  
5:17 pm

Mulder glanced over at his partner as they descended the courthouse steps. "You okay?" 

She scrubbed her eye with the heel of her hand. "Sure. I hate this stage of a case." 

Since they had reached the street level, he touched her elbow to guide her to the back lot where he had parked their rental. "You're not the only one. Did you see how irritated Saunders was?" 

She nodded. "Yes. He's as bored as you and I are, no doubt, especially since he's not the one questioning the prospective jurors." 

They pushed their way around bare-branched shrubs to step onto the asphalt of the lot. Mulder squinted into the glare of the streetlights, then smirked as Scully pointed out their Taurus. 

She tossed her head. "I think Stone's small-town lawyer act is beginning to get on his nerves." When Mulder's cell phone began buzzing, she stared down at the inner pocket of his long coat.

His forehead wrinkling, he placed the small black unit on his ear. "Mulder."

She stopped him with a hand on his arm, watching his face as he listened. 

He mouthed 'the guys' before he responded. "Now, Fro, you know juror records are confidential." 

She adjusted the strap on her laptop carrying case. "They got into the courthouse records?" 

He nodded both to her as well as to his caller. "Okay. When we're at the hotel, Scully'll return the favor." He terminated the conversation, then looked down at her while he pocketed the phone. "Doctor, you won't believe this, but..."

She tipped her head. "I'm not sure I want to know." 

He touched her back, pointing her towards the Taurus again. "They broke into the city records, somehow came up with a list of eligible jurors for this year, and cross-referenced it against those who have already served on a jury." He bent to unlock the passenger door. 

She clutched the laptop to her chest. "And?"

Stepping back, he walked around to the driver's side of the car to sit before he responded. "You expect there to be an 'And', Doctor?" 

She adjusted her seat belt. "Of course." 

The engine turned over. "They've compared the names against the members of right-wing organizations, among others, in the area, so we have a list of men and women to avoid." 

She nodded. "That's all we can hope for, Mulder. Stone's strategy will have to do the rest." 

He backed the car out. "Yeah. Although the Prosecution's been striking any witness with a college degree. Nichols was right that their strategy would be to try to make it an open and shut murder trial. They're hoping the jury will get lost in our mass of evidence." 

Scully glanced both ways down the street, checking instinctively for clear lanes. "So much of this case involves standard procedures stood on end. Usually the appeal to emotion comes from the defense." 

Mulder guided the navy-blue sedan into the left-most lane. After a few blocks, he glanced in his rear-view mirror, then groaned. A police cruiser had pulled up behind him, lights flashing, but leaving off the disturbance of a siren. "I wonder what he wants, Scully? The speed limit's what, thirty-five through here?" 

She checked behind her. "You were nowhere near that. You be a good little G-man and pull over, Mulder."

He glanced at her. "Yes, Sergeant Lucy."

\--o-0-o--

The agents waited, ID's at the ready, while two officers approached the Taurus. Mulder glanced at his partner. "Ooh, the one on my side looks pretty good, Doctor, hold that badge up where he can read your phone number."

After a quick roll of her eyes, she twisted around to get a clear view. "I don't like this." 

He was turning to check when they heard weapons snapping against leather. 

The officer on his side shouted, "Exit your vehicles slowly and keep your hands where I can see them!" 

Scully reached for the door handle. "Somehow, I don't think my phone number will pacify him, Mulder." 

The agents held their badges aloft, shouting their ID's and affiliations. 

The muscle-bound man behind Mulder began growing, changing before their eyes. When he froze, a familiar steel-jawed visage faced them, while the second officer had assumed the rounded form they had once known as Luther. 

Scully walked slowly around the front of the Taurus to join her partner. 

Without acknowledging her, Mulder quipped dryly, "I always wondered how David Banner kept those pants from ripping off. Now I know." 

Momentarily at a loss, Pilot shook his head, then grew slightly taller as he glowered at the dark-haired agent. "I have no time for games. We are here because we need your help." 

Scully checked Luther, who was morphing into a canopy over their Taurus, shading the three from onlookers. "Oh? The last we knew, the five of you were on your way to Africa." 

Pilot shook his head. "That is not important. You simians have a saying: 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend.' This Organization we would both like to see eliminated is on the brink of success in an experiment that will change your species irreparably. That we cannot allow. Give us the locations of the bases in Africa so we can put a halt to this madness." 

Mulder shrugged. "If we had the locations, we certainly wouldn't give them to you. How do we know you wouldn't just use whatever they've found to begin your plan for population reduction?" 

Pilot shook Scully by the arm. "You, at least, should be able to understand what interests us." 

Scully bit her lower lip as she thought before she offered, "They've overcome the problems with different numbers of chromosomes to produce viable human-chimpanzee hybrids, haven't they?" 

Attempting to push the Pilot away from his partner, Mulder reached out, but found himself blocked by an amorphous appendage that emerged from the canopy. "Scully, don't give them any information." 

Pilot released her. "According to the ancients, it is as you say. You simians have a long history of enhancing certain pre-existing characteristics of captive species for your own purposes. That would not violate our laws and ethics. You also know to insert genetic materials from one species into the sequences of another. Nor is that an affront to our principles, and those by which every intelligent race should live. But, this effort is not one among those. Already vast areas of their habitat have been destroyed, feeding your lust for mastery of your environment. This experiment would be the beginning of the end for yet another group of near-sentient residents of your planet. If those, as you say, apes, were fully your equal, we would step out of the way and allow you to battle each other to mutual extinction." 

Struggling to push past the barrier, Mulder shouted, "Who are you to act as evolutionary policemen?" He grunted as an appendage threw him against the pulsating parchment-colored barrier.

Glaring at the dark-haired agent, the shape-shifter grew taller yet. "Conflict is an unpleasant side-effect of sentience for which all should prepare. But to exterminate a species on the threshold of achieving higher intelligence is anathema to us. We need to know the locations of the bases to put a stop to their research." 

Scully shook her head. "How do you know the results of their work if you don't know where they are taking place?" 

The Pilot had curled over Scully until he looked like a question mark. "Do you think you are the only adversaries the Consortium has? Do you think you are the only ones to whom we can turn?" He eyed Mulder, now wrapped from chin to ankles in what looked like an opaque tongue. "Your allies are closer than you think, bound to you in ways you do not expect, if hidden from you." He focused on the auburn-haired woman. "So you will not give us the locations of the bases?" 

Scully clenched her fists at her side. "We don't *have* the locations of the bases." 

While glaring down at her, the Pilot morphed into a slender white reed, taller even than his human form, with three waving antennae at the top. 

Scully backed away from whatever the shape-shifter had become. "We don't have the information you seek. If we did, we'd have checked it out ourselves." 

At this, the alien resumed its familiar shape, then spoke in several high-pitched clicks and whistles. The canopy reformed into Luther, then they returned to the shapes of the two policemen who had stopped them originally. With no further acknowledgment of the presence of the two agents, the aliens returned to the cruiser, then departed. 

Mulder was patting his chest and hips when Scully turned to check him. "I'm okay, Scully, I've just been given the massage of my dreams." 

Her face a porcelain mask, she had stripped him of his tweed longcoat and charcoal suit jacket before he could emit a squeak of protest. "Hold still, Mulder, you've not been keeping up on the physical therapy the way you should." She stood behind him, her tiny fingers pressing in to outline his scapula. 

He tried to twist to face her _I'm really okay!_ , but she held his arms, so he called back, "If you'd found a better looking therapist for me, I might have, Scully." 

Finished with her probing, she stepped around to focus on his clavicle, her pinching motions wrinkling the soft cotton of his white shirt. After flicking her eyes up to his, she shot back wryly, "Six foot three, blonde, annoyingly perky, and twenty-two. Well, I guess I *don't* know what you like, Mulder." 

He smirked as she handed him his suit jacket. "See, I'm fine." After shrugging the Armani into place, he tossed his longcoat in the back seat.

She began returning to her side of the Taurus. "Do you think he believed me?" 

As he slid behind the wheel, Mulder nodded. "If he hadn't, he wouldn't have let us leave. I wonder where we'll see them next?" 

She clipped on her seat belt. "Or how they think we could know where the bases in Africa were." 

Glancing over at her deeply serious face, he quipped, "I never knew meeting aliens face to face would be such a revelation."

The immediate danger past, she narrowed her eyes at him. "Oh?" 

His eyes twinkling, he waved in the general direction of the departed cruiser. "In space, no one has a sense of humor."

\--o-0-o--

Federal Courthouse  
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania  
Monday, November 10, 1997  
11:04 am

Jarred Stone paced in front of the assembled jury, surveying the twelve faces in front of him, assessing the impact of his words upon them. He stopped before the eldest, a white-haired history teacher, retired just last year from one of the local high schools. If anyone, he pinned his hopes on this tiny woman before him, with her years of teaching the Byzantine machinations of European monarchs in the post-medieval period to her honors students. He slid his hands into his pockets, bouncing on his heels while all eyes were focused on him, waiting for his conclusions. 

He smiled sagely. "Now, the case we have to make to you, regarding motive, is not for the one behind the unfortunate deaths of two otherwise sterling Agents of the Bureau." He pointed towards Saunders. "But it is to explain the charging of a man who," he declaimed, waving his still-cocked finger in a wide arc, "in any other court of the land, would *never* have been sitting in front of you in this room today, is as follows." He began his bounding perambulations again. "The *motive*, my fellow citizens, is to prevent the dismemberment of a secret organization, decades old, that exists for the flimsiest of reasons." He surveyed the faces, focused in rapt attention. "That reason is to save us *all*, from," he whispered, bending towards the jury box, hoping to draw the men and women there into his web of thoughts, "little green men." 

There were titters from the audience, as Stone watched several of the jurors smirk. 

He pointed to the prosecutor. "Now, my honored colleague will attempt to convince you that my client *manufactured* this Consortium from the wiles of an over-stressed imagination to justify what would otherwise be heinous crimes." He walked over to the defense table, standing by a stack of documents. "But, I, and these agents of the Federal Bureau of Investigation behind me - " He pointed in the general direction of Mulder and Scully. " - have assembled - " He pounded the folders with his fist once. " - unshakable proof that just such an organization does exist." He bounded back to the jury box. "We have evidence that it has used its original mandate to branch out into areas totally unrelated to 'little green men,' whatever that might be, to assume power and influence." He shoved his hands in his pockets again. "The Organization committed this subversion of everything America stands for *all* at the expense of-" He turned his pockets inside out so the white lining gleamed in stark contrast to his nut-brown suit. "-average citizens like yourselves." He tucked the cloth back in place. "Yet, when one of their number came forward to expose this lurking web of evil-" He leaned over the railing separating the members of the jury from the rest of the courtroom. "-he was hounded like a common criminal." Grasping the wood, he pointed towards Saunders again. "Even his very *life* was put in danger." 

Stone took a moment to smooth down the worsted wool of his lapels. "Now, that evidence is complex," he soothed as he extended his hands, making motions as if pulling in a rope, "long chains of documents, binding up a story as intricate as the failure of the Savings and Loan industry, requiring us all to sift fact from fantasy, truth from fiction." He propped himself on the railing. "But, with your help, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I, and the agents who have worked for years assembling this case, intend to lay this all out before you, to expose this corruption to," he expounded, pointing to the ceiling, "the light of day. Then you can render a fair and equitable verdict of not guilty. You can go home to your families, knowing you live in a *democracy*, not a country ruled by men in a dark room." He bowed slightly. "Thank you." 

Stone resumed his seat, a hush having fallen over the audience. 

Judge Anderson's chair creaked under his excessive girth as he turned to the prosecutor's table. Before he spoke, he raised a pasty white, pudgy hand to his forehead, daubing the beads of sweat that had formed there with a trifold linen handkerchief. He lowered that hand, ponderously shifting to the side in his seat while he stuffed the starched cloth away under his robe, with its clasps bulging at the neck. The hand came up to rest on the judge's dais, not bothering to smooth down his hair. Any need for such an action had disappeared down a shower drain decades earlier. Since the assembled witnesses and reporters were beginning to cough and fidget, he cleared his throat. "Mister Pollack, you may proceed with your case." His words sailed forth separately, as ponderously launched as his motions.

While the prosecutor rose, Mulder looked down at Cynthia, tucked in between him and Rosen. Their secretary's eyes were wide. 

He bent towards her. "You okay?" 

She blinked, then focused up at him. "Mister Stone sounds like a preacher from back home, not a lawyer." 

Mulder's right cheek rippled, then he bent down to whisper a gentle reassurance, "That's the general idea. Jarred's from down South originally. He could convince a jury some of the serial killers we convicted were demons incarnate." 

His attention was brought to the front of the courtroom by the judge's call for order.

\--o-0-o--

Federal Courthouse  
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania  
Friday, November 14, 1997  
1:34 pm

The opening days of the trial had been consumed by the Prosecutor’s presentation of the confusion surrounding the initial autopsies of the two decedents. It was a preemptive strategy intended to call into question the competence of the entire Bureau, but especially the witness whom he knew would be the most significant for the Defense’s case, Dana Scully. She had been adamant she had not been the pathologist of record, citing her injuries and the timing, when she was in the air with Mulder on the way back from Alaska. Stone had objected strenuously to the entire line of questioning, since the absence of the internal organs was both evidence tampering, as well as obstruction of the Defense’s case. Only Anderson’s repeated denial of these objections, followed by rebuttals of the towering attorney’s calls for a mistrial prevented a speedy termination of the proceedings. 

Yet, the trial continued. Its opening gambit having failed, the Prosecution fell back on a less inflammatory approach, calling Walter Skinner back to the stand. After taking the oath, the AD, his spine still at attention, settled into the leather and oak chair placed in the witness booth. 

Prosecutor Pollack took his place in front of him. "Director Skinner, a few preliminaries." 

The bald head dipped once. 

"You have been an assistant director with the Federal Bureau of Investigation for how many years?" 

"Four, Sir. I was appointed to my current position by the former director, William Sessions." 

Pollack nodded. "Thank you. Now, on the night in question, how many persons were present at the Safe House?" 

Skinner met his gaze unblinkingly. "Prior to the arrival of the two deceased agents, two, Sir, the defendant and myself. We had..."

Stone was on his feet. "The defense has never contended that the defendant was not responsible for the deaths of the deceased, Your Honor. We are willing to spare the court's time by stipulating that the victims met their fate at the hands of my client." 

Pollack sent the lanky attorney a predatory stare before he turned to Anderson. "Despite the confusion surrounding the handling of their remains, the People wish the details of these two men's deaths to be entered in the record, Your Honor. We believe they throw a questionable light on the plea of self-defense." 

Anderson gave the appearance of weighing the objections carefully, then called out his decision in his lazy, gravelly voice, "In the interests of justice, Mister Pollack, you may proceed."

Pollack glared triumphantly at Stone, then turned back to Skinner. "Continue your description of events, Sir." 

After a flicker of distaste crossed his features, Skinner's jaw set. "Following an indication that the two agents had arrived, I locked the defendant in his quarters to facilitate their admission. After proper recognition, I was taking them back to their positions when I was struck from behind and rendered unconscious. Upon awakening, I moved immediately to the room in which the defendant had been placed. There, I found signs of a forced entry and a struggle, during which the furniture in the room had been overturned. The two agents were both dead, shot with one of the weapons they had carried on their persons." He took a deep breath to continue. 

Pollack held up his hand. "Thank you, Director Skinner. You say you found signs of a forced entry. Did the defendant offer any explanation for that forced entry?" 

Skinner shook his head. "He did not, Sir. I had assumed from the blow I had received that we were dealing with an assassination attempt and responded accordingly." 

Pollack let his mouth form into an O. "You assumed?" 

Skinner nodded. "In witness protection situations, it is always assumed that an attempt will be made on the witness's life." 

Pollack began pacing. "But, the victims gave no indication, when you met them, that they had murderous intentions towards the defendant?" 

If it were possible for the ex-Marine to come to fuller attention, that was exactly what the bald Director did. "No, Sir, they did not." 

Pollack stopped in front of the witness box. "You say you were struck on the head. Did you see a doctor about the injury, immediately or at a later time?" 

Skinner clenched his fists. "No, Sir, I did not. At the time, it seemed more important to secure the defendant's safety." 

Pollack crossed his arms. "Let me see if I understand you properly, Director Skinner. You admit two agents, both with an exemplary record, into the Safe House where only you and the defendant wait. Is that correct?" 

Skinner blinked. "That's correct, Sir." 

Pollack continued, "These agents give no indication that they are anything other than what you know them to be. Is that correct?" 

Skinner paused. "Yes, Sir." 

"Then, after a blow to the head, which did not require medical attention, you awaken to find these two men dead, with the murder weapon in the hands of the defendant. Do I have that right?" 

The bald Director glared. "Yes. Sir." If the words had been projectiles, both would have passed directly through the quietly gleeful Prosecutor's chest. 

Pollack shuffled slightly as he approached the witness box. "Tell me, when, in your capacity as Assistant Director in the Bureau, did you first meet the defendant?" 

Skinner's forehead contracted. "Sir?" 

Pollack struck the railing in front of him. "Come, Mister Skinner, it's a simple question. Did you, or did you not, have contact with the defendant in your capacity as Assistant Director of the FBI?" 

The color drained from the ex-Marine's face. "Yes, Sir." 

Pollack snatched his hand back from the edge. "Thank you. Would you relate that first incident to us, please?" 

Skinner glanced at Saunders before responding, "It was in February 1995, when I was seeking to ascertain the whereabouts of Agent Mulder in connection with..." 

Pollack was shaking his head. "We'll question Agent Mulder shortly, Director Skinner. What transpired between yourself and the defendant?" 

Skinner’s hand flicked across his chin. "We engaged in an exchange of words and blows in the elevator in Agent Mulder's apartment building." 

Pollack bent over the railing. "You seem to have this problem with blows, Director Skinner. What were the defendant's last words to you, or had he struck you on the head and knocked you out this time, too?" 

Skinner responded in a growl. "He stated, 'I've killed men for less.'" 

Pollack feigned horror. "Really? 'I've killed men for less' were his exact words? You're sure about that?" 

Skinner's jaw clenched again. "Yes, Sir, I am." 

Pollack smoothed down his lapels. "Let me get this straight. Were you holding a weapon on the defendant at the time of his - ' He flicked his eyes at the jury. " - pronouncement?" 

"No, Sir, I was not. We had struggled, exchanging blows and wrestling as the elevator car descended." 

Pollack nodded. "Hum." He rubbed his chin. "Do you think defendant feared for his life as a result of your struggles?" 

Stone rose. "Objection! Calls for a conclusion from the witness." 

"Sustained. Rephrase your question, Mister Pollack." 

Pollack's smirk at Skinner bared all his front teeth. "When the defendant offered his observation about his past, were you strangling him?" 

"No, Sir, I was not. We were on opposite sides of the car." 

Pollack nodded. "I see. You had no weapon, you were not in close proximity to the defendant, you had inflicted no permanent injury on the defendant's person. Yet his comment to you was, 'I've killed men for less'. Thank you, Director Skinner, you've been most helpful. Your witness, Counselor." 

Stone eyed Pollack as he crossed to the witness box. "Director Skinner, that statement of the defendant bothers me deeply. Why, exactly, were you two fighting?" 

Skinner's shoulders rounded slightly. "I had reason to believe the defendant had placed one of my agent's lives in danger by supplying him passage to a location where there was an ongoing paramilitary exercise. I was seeking to verify my suspicions."

Stone nodded. "Were you successful in obtaining that verification?" 

A glimmer of pride shown from the Assistant Director's dark eyes. "Yes, Sir, I was."

"The defendant's comment was offered immediately after surrendering that information, was it not?" 

Skinner straightened. "Yes, Sir." 

Stone shoved his hands in his pockets. "So there was no question, in your mind, that his comment was prompted, not by losing a short round of fisticuffs, but by being forced to surrender something the defendant did not want to yield to you?" 

Skinner's jaw muscles rippled. "There was no question in my mind that the defendant did not wish me to obtain that verification, none, Sir." 

Stone favored Skinner with a relieved smile. "Thank you, Director Skinner." He looked up at Anderson. "I have nothing further, Your Honor." 

Anderson faced Pollack. "Anything, Mister Pollack?" 

The Prosecutor shook his head. 

Anderson leaned over the witness box. "You may stand down, Mister Skinner." He rested one hand on top of the other. "Call your next witness, Mister Pollack."

The bailiff, a woman whose generous girth matched the judge's, glanced at the next name on the witness roster. "The State calls Fox William Mulder!" The bailiff surveyed the room, frowning at the titters. "Agent Fox Mulder!" 

Scully poked her partner. "You're up." 

As he rose, he nodded. "Here goes nothing."

After the necessary preliminaries, Mulder settled into the witness box.

Prosecutor Pollack paced in front of him, watching the agent out of the corner of his eye. When Mulder, already uncomfortable, glanced at his partner, Pollack moved into his line of sight. "Mister Mulder, how long have you known the defendant?" 

"Since July 1994, Sir." 

Pollack nodded, appearing to mull over this information.

Mulder, still edgy, began shifting over on the contoured cushions. 

Pollack slid back to the side, purposely blocking Mulder's view of Scully. "What were the circumstances under which you two met?" 

Mulder's eyes narrowed. "Excuse me?" 

Pollack bared his teeth at the dark-haired agent in a smile that did nothing to calm the witness' nerves. "Oh, did you meet at a dinner party, a law enforcement convention, while playing softball, that sort of thing?" 

The legs of an oak chair at the defense table scraped as Jarred Stone rose. "Your Honor, I fail to see the relevance of this line of questioning. The actions of this witness over three years prior to the events we are examining are hardly..." 

Judge Anderson raised one broad hand, silencing the lanky attorney. He then interlaced his thick fingers. "Mister Pollack, I have to concur with the defense." 

Pollack bowed slightly. "If I may be permitted to continue, Your Honor, I believe you will see how this relates to our case."

Anderson leaned back, the steel frame protesting as he slipped against it. "Very well, I'll allow this for now." 

The interruption was the last thing Mulder needed, leaving him clenching his fists, then forcing himself to relax his long fingers, when the prosecutor returned to him. 

Pollack crossed his arms. "Now, Mister Mulder, to the events of July 1994. Where, when and how did you first meet the defendant?" 

Mulder glanced at his hands before he answered. "We met at RFK Stadium." 

Pollack's black eyebrows shot up under the remaining thin strands of bright black hair which perpetually fell over the lines forming on his forehead. "Ah, at a *football* game. I see." 

Mulder reminded himself not to slouch, but to keep his back straight. "No, Sir. The stadium was closed. Mister Saunders, I mean, I didn't know his name then, was there to give me some information on secret government research into sleep eradication experiments." 

Pollack began crossing the aisle to the evidence bench, then looked back. "Don't you mean sleep deprivation experiments? The effects of sleep loss on pilots, train operators, that sort of thing?"

Mulder shook his head. "No, I mean sleep *eradication*. There was a platoon of Marines who had portions of their brains, the portion that controls sleep and wakefulness removed, then were given serotonin via pills to compensate for its loss. The Marines who made it back from Vietnam went for twenty years or more without sleep, just with the pills." 

Pollack stood in front of the agent. "Mister Mulder, do you have any idea how way-out that sounds?" He waved at the documents on the defense bench. "Tell me, where in all that fabled documentation do you have one shred of evidence supporting this outrageous story of yours?" 

Mulder closed his eyes momentarily. "It's not in there." 

Stone was on his feet. "Your Honor..."

Anderson held up his hand. "I agree, Mister Stone. Make your point, Mister Pollack."

Pollack let a smile play about his lips. "Of course, your honor. You say Mister Saunders gave you evidence. What was this evidence?" 

Mulder shifted. "Two copies of a report, one of which I gave to Agent Scully. She's a medical doctor, a pathologist, and she stated..." 

Pollack shook his head. "We'll get to Agent Scully soon enough, Mister Mulder. Well, where *is* this report? Where *are* these marines?" 

Mulder glanced at the floor of the witness box. "The marines are all dead. The report is missing." 

Pollack rested both hands on the railing in front of the witness box. "Excuse me? The marines are all dead? Did you ask your partner the pathologist to perform autopsies on these men to verify that they were missing a portion of their brains?" He held up a Bureau folder, stamped XF02-0004. "There were no forensic analyses in your report to your superiors."

Mulder shook his head. "We weren't partners at the time. I had been assigned Agent Alexander Krycek as a partner." 

After dropping the folder back on his bench, Pollack scanned the courtroom theatrically. "Where is this Agent Krycek? Can we subpoena him to verify this fantastic tale?" 

Mulder colored. "I wish I knew where he was, Sir." 

Pollack faced Mulder again, the dark-haired agent convinced the attorney was licking his chops. "So, let me understand this. You gave a copy of the report to Agent Scully, who was not your partner at the time, and the man who was your partner is nowhere to be found?" 

Mulder gripped the arms of the witness chair. "That's correct, Sir." 

Pollack rubbed his chin. "I see. As a matter of fact, you were specifically told *not* to involve Agent Scully in any of your cases, is that correct?" 

Mulder nodded. "That's correct, Sir." 

Pollack nodded. "All right. Let me make sure I understand you properly. You were given two copies of the report by the defendant, both of which are now missing. One you gave to Agent Scully, who was not working with you at the time, and the man who could verify your version of the events is also missing. Would you venture to guess what happened to the report?" 

Mulder coughed. "I believe Saunders took it back." 

Pollack nodded. "Ah. I see. And Agent Scully's copy?" 

Mulder fidgeted. "If anyone, I believe either Krycek or Saunders took her copy of the report as well. He was the only other person I know who knew the report existed." 

Pollack stalked over to the defense table. "Interesting how this case of yours begins and end with our Mister Saunders, isn't it?" 

Mulder began to splutter a protest.

Pollack held up one hand. "Now, don't bother to answer that one, Agent Mulder, Council for the Defense has had far too much exercise during your testimony today as it is."

\--o-0-o--

Federal Courthouse  
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania  
Friday, 5:27 pm

Judge Anderson eyed the clock over the read doors of the courtroom. "Mister Pollack?" 

The Prosecutor looked up from a folder, bearing the seal of the Bureau, and stamped with XF03-0009, that he had balanced on the railing in front of the witness. "Yes, Your Honor?" 

Anderson leaned over towards the witness box. "Given the importance of this witness's testimony to your case, I have permitted you to run court past its usual hour of adjournment. Will you be finishing with Mister Mulder soon, or should we continue this tomorrow?" 

Pollack snapped the folder shut. "Just one more question, Your Honor." 

Knowing the importance of last impressions for a jury, Stone's chair scraped over the wood flooring. "Your Honor, if I may be permitted to redress some of these points tonight, possibly in an evening session." 

Pollack approached the bench. "Your Honor, there has been no request made for evening work." 

Stone bounded across the aisle, the heads of the two attorneys level as they tipped back to make their points. "Your Honor, there is exceptionally tight security surrounding the members of the jury in this case. The sooner it is concluded, the safer they will all be." 

Anderson's thick neck wobbled. "Gentlemen, gentlemen, please. While I appreciate the concerns of the Defense Council, this is the first of many days we will all be gathered in my courtroom." There was the slap of his gavel against granite. "Court is adjourned for the day. In deference to the extraordinary nature of this case, we will resume again at nine o'clock. Let's get an early start Monday, good people." He heaved himself to his feet, bringing those assembled upright as well. 

All but one. Dana Scully's view of Mulder had been consistently blocked by the Prosecutor, so she could not verify for herself the psychological toll this testimony had taken on her partner. Now, with the tear-drop shaped figure out of the way, her breath caught. Fox Mulder had pressed himself against the far side of the chair, attempting to support himself through the battering he had received. Now, he seemed barely aware of his surroundings, blinking slowly as the assembly departed. 

Nichols leaned into her vision. "Ros and I were thinking of taking Cyndie to dinner. You want to grab Mulder and come along?" 

Scully sighed. "No. We'll probably get something at the hotel." 

Eying his Section Head sadly, Nichols nodded. "We'll bring something back for you two, okay?" 

The auburn-haired woman nodded her thanks, first to Nichols, then to Rosen, who had dropped a hand to her shoulder. 

The astronomer spoke gently. "I've never seen Mulder indulge in a beer, but I could..."

Scully shook her head. "No. He doesn't drink. Thanks, but dinner will be a stretch." She waited until the courtroom was cleared, then she approached the bench. "Mulder?" 

He pulled himself upright, responding to her presence for the first time that day. "Scully?" The self-protective barricade he had erected was mentally opened, just to admit her. 

She reached inside the witness box to grasp his arm. "It's over for today." 

The dark-haired agent slumped forward, pressing his face into his palms. 

Scully rubbed small circles in his shoulder, waiting for a response. 

After what seemed to them both to be an eternity, he spoke through his fingers. "I blew it, didn't I? Pollack has nicely made the case that all we've found out is Saunders' doing, thanks to me." 

She bent close to his ear. "Oh, no, I wouldn't say that." She lowered herself to the step into the witness box. "Remember that we have several technicians coming to testify to Duane Barry's implants. Remember also that we can show how limited Saunders' training and resources to pull off a hoax actually are. They'll take their best shot, but it won't be enough." 

Mulder rubbed his hands together. "Okay." His sorrowing eyes fixed on hers. "If it exposes the Consortium and everything they've tried to conceal, I guess it will have been worth it." 

Scully grasped his arm. "Do you feel like joining the others for dinner?" 

Mulder shook his head. "I'm not really all that hungry." 

Keeping hold of his wrist, Scully led Mulder out of the witness box. She was reassured when he reached in front of her to push the swinging doors separating the benches from the rows of hard seats apart for her. After they passed into the aisle, she made a point of brushing her shoulder against his side as they walked towards the exit together. 

He responded with a light touch on her back, then a quip. "Besides, 'Planet of the Apes' is coming up on AMC at eight this evening. Charleton Heston in a cage, Scully, every feminist's dream." 

She tossed her hair. "But that means I'm missing 'Ben-Hur'. Heston in high-cut leather is better." 

He smirked slightly as he held open one of the double doors to the hall.

\--o-0-o--

Room 217  
Allegheny View Motel  
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania  
Friday, 8:17 pm

At the knock, Scully crossed the room to check their visitors through the spyhole of the door. "I think you have a surprise waiting for you, Mulder." 

The dark-haired agent, shoeless and tieless, swung his feet off the twin bed to stand. "Oh?" He grasped her shoulder while she moved aside to give him a clear view. Grinning broadly, he unlocked the door. 

Langly sauntered in, his arms laden with wide rolls of stiff paper. "Hey, G-man, what's shakin'?" 

Nichols followed, looking Mulder in the eye. "You feeling better, Chief?" He passed him a white paper bag.

Mulder nodded, then faced Langly. "What do you have?" 

The blond Gunman was shoving on one of the twin beds with his foot. "IR data from the SPOT satellite." He waited while Rosen took several of the maps from him. "We may have worked out a possible location for what might have interested your shape-shifter buddies." 

The astronomer was spreading out the full-color mosaics, attempting to pat them flat. "The Pilot talked about near-sentient simians, right? Thanks." Her last comment was directed at Cynthia, who was carefully placing shoes, cell phones, as well as anything else she could find that was small and heavy, on the corners of the pages. 

Scully stepped out of her own pumps, aligning them on the edges of the papers closest to her. "Like the chimpanzee or the gorilla. You've brought maps of their habitats?" 

The brunette sat back on her own bare heels. "Yes. These are full, two meter resolution images of portions of Africa, taken just last week." She pointed to the sheets by Mulder. "That's Ruwanda." She tapped the map by her knee. "This is Gombe." 

His arms crossed, Mulder bent at the waist to peer at the colors. "According to the legend, this is all forested area." 

Nichols grunted as he sat, rubbing his knees before he stretched them out to his side. "Yeah, but we think we see a pattern here." He rolled onto his hip to dig out a telescoping pointer. "Ooh, that hurts. You show'em." He tossed the slight aluminum tube to his partner. 

She caught it with a smirk, then opened it with a practiced snap. "See, this darker area here?" She circled a pentagon with unequal sides. "That doesn't look natural, does it?" 

Mulder dropped to his knees. "No. I take it I'm not supposed to point and shout 'UFO landing site'?" 

Rosen grinned. "Call it whatever you want, Mulder. You'll just have to prove it." 

He snorted, then waggled his hand at her. "Lend the US taxpayer the benefits of that fine education of yours, Rosen."

She outlined the area idly with the red tip of the pointer. "A more down-to-earth explanation would be a subterranean structure. The added heat and moisture coming off the facility would increase the plant density sufficiently to be noticed at these finer scales. With the older Landsat instruments, the resolution to see something like this wasn't there, and besides, most efforts were concentrated over the First or Second Worlds." 

Cynthia frowned. "Second World?" 

Nichols smiled. "The former Soviet Union and allies, for you young'ns. We were awfully busy spying on each other for most of the past half century."

Rosen continued, "Now, with the new European and Japanese satellites coming on line, *and* with high resolution outputs commercially available, anyone can spy on anyone else, almost." 

Mulder nodded. "With First World reserves of strategic minerals exhausted, the undeveloped Third World is becoming increasingly more significant. Just where the Shadows were trying to hide out."

Scully had her nose nearly on the print. "There's one here in Gombe, too." 

Langly tapped the sheets in front of him. "And here, in the Sahara." 

Scully looked over. "The Sahara? What near-sentient primates live there?" 

Cynthia squeaked, then nearly fell off her chair. Her wild arm motions calling their attentions to her, she explained, "I know, or at least I think I know. It may be us." 

Langly was grinning broadly. "Yeah, she may be right." 

Mulder looked to his partner. "What is this? I thought we all came down from the trees? I know the Sahara was forested at one time in the past, but..." 

Scully tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "But that was back in the Mesozoic, right, Rosen?" 

The agent nodded. "Right, but listen to this." She reached across the maps to touch Cynthia's elbow. "Tell them, Cyndie." 

The tiny woman was beaming. "There's a theory that the original ancestor to both modern humans and the great apes was bipedal, that it had to cross vast tracts of desert to reach water." 

Mulder settled into the armchair by her side. "How well accepted is this? Or is this another wild idea like the Doctor's always accusing me of producing?" 

After suppressing a giggle, Cynthia shook her head. "It's just speculation at this point, what the professor called a 'plausible hypothesis'. There's no proof, outside of circumstantial evidence." She clasped her denim-clad knees with her hands. "You see, as far back as we go with the human fossils, we find fully functional bipedal locomotion. Think of the Laetoli footprints." 

Scully rose to stand by her. "The ones Mary Leakey found in the ash deposits." 

Cynthia stood, looking the auburn-haired woman in the eye. "Yes. Well, between that and the fact that chimpanzees and gorillas probably evolved after we did, there's been a Doctor Boaz out looking in the Sahara for bipedal ancestors for several years now." 

Nichols pulled himself to his feet. "So, if your Consortium is really looking to merge human and chimpanzee DNA, it would help to know exactly when and where the split occurred, so it could know what characteristics were most compatible." He shrugged. "Or that's how it seems to me." 

Langly dropped onto the bed. "Yeah, the DNA might not give you all the clues you need." 

Rosen crossed her arms. "We've discovered a third species of chimp just recently, whereas human and gorillas are a single species each." She stepped out of her running shoes to track a path around the edges of the images. "In the gorilla's case, it's because there are so few of them. For us, it's a different question altogether." 

Mulder crossed his arms. "This is good." He beckoned to Scully, so they stepped outside. Once the door swung shut, he leaned into her face. "We don't need to keep them all here when they could be pursuing this. They weren't subpoenaed by the Prosecution, so their testimony won't be required for a couple of weeks, at least." 

She nodded. "I agree, Mulder. They've seen how our adversaries like to operate, and Cynthia would be happier working than worrying." 

Mulder ran his hand through his hair. "Are you sure about using her? I don't mean because of her relationship with Lindhauer, but she's not trained to handle a weapon or defend herself." 

Scully glanced at a passing car before responding, "I think so. She'll be with Rosen and Nichols and the Gunmen all the time, so we don't have to look out for her. I'm sorry she had to pull out of school; she's a bright kid." 

Mulder reached for the knob. "Well, she can give herself a crash course in human evolution, with Rosen's help." He looked down at her. "You wouldn't think we would need to worry about that leaping into that quagmire." 

Scully tossed her head. "Who knows, Mulder, you may be able to prove we were seeded here by alien founders after all." 

Stepping back, he shook his head. "Nope. If we were, I don't think the picture would be as confusing as it is, do you?" Smirking, he waved her back inside.

\--o-0-o--

Federal Courthouse  
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania  
Monday, November 17, 1997  
1:02 pm

"No further questions, Your Honor." His steps precise, his motions sinuous, Prosecutor Pollack returned to his seat. His 'one question' about any further interaction between Mulder and his former partner, Alex Krycek, had nearly derailed the trial again. The recounting of the events surrounding William Mulder’s death, the agent’s precipitate departure to New Mexico, Mulder’s near-death, and Scully’s dismissal, were a second attempt to discredit the partners as witnesses. Just as before, Stone’s repeated objections were denied.

Judge Anderson, delighted at having thrown the towering defense attorney off his guard, leaned towards the defense table. "Your witness, Mister Stone." 

Finally able to strike back, Jarred Stone forced himself to amble across the aisle to stand in front of Mulder. Rather than blocking the dark-haired agent's view of his partner, Stone rested his left elbow on the railing of the witness box, then slid his right hand into his pants pocket. Although this action put his back to the judge, it also blocked the prosecutor's line of sight with the witness, but left him free to catch jury members' reactions. He nodded to the faces in the two short rows on the right side of the courtroom before he smiled gently at Mulder. 

The slight break had given the agent the time to catch his breath, then compose himself. 

Stone paused, waiting for the whispers and coughs in the courtroom to still before he said quietly, "That's quite a story you've told us, Agent Mulder." 

The agent glanced at his partner, who had the same slightly befuddled expression he knew he himself was wearing. 

Stone pushed himself slowly off the birch panels of the witness box. "Ah mean, you're askin' us to believe that the government would purposely disable citizens and free men, marines at that." He bounced on his heels, having caught the sharpened focus of one blond man in the back, whose military service emblem adorned his lapel. "Almost as bad as usin' soldiers to watch the first A-bomb explosions, or undergo LSD tests, wouldn't yah say?" 

Mulder grasped each wrist with the opposite hand. _Jarred at his finest._ "Yes, yes, I would." He took a deep breath, prepared to offer more, but stopped at an almost imperceptible shake from the attorney's long head. 

Stone stepped over to the prosecutor's table. "But I'm afraid the Council for the prosecution is aksin' us to believe something even more amazin'." 

Pollack was on his feet. "I object, Your Honor, Council is asking for a conclusion from the witness." 

Anderson tapped two pudgy fingers on a folder. "Mister Stone, you know the rules. I'll have to side with the Prosecutor on this unless you can rephrase." 

His hands in his pockets, Stone bowed slightly. "My sincerest apologies, Your Honor, facts like these are difficult to warm up to." He sent a glance towards the jury, all of whom were now focused on him. "Ah'll come to the point, then. Ah believe the opposing Council stated 'this case of yours begins and ends with our Mister Saunders.'" He looked to the Court Recorder for verification, who read off the exact quote. "Thank-yew, Ma'am." He rubbed his hands together. "Then, let's get right down to it. In your case report, you state the victims and the men you interviewed all had scars on the backs of their necks, is that correct?" 

Mulder nodded. "Yes." 

Stone leaned against the witness box again. "Red and puffy, as if made in the past few weeks?" 

"No." Mulder drew his finger along the back of his neck. "The marks were thick with scar tissue and several inches long. They must have been in place for several years at least." 

"Hum." Stone stared at his oversized feet, appearing to contemplate this information. "And none of this men showed any sign of paralysis or long-term brain damage?" 

Mulder settled back. "No, Sir. Outside of exhibiting nervous habits, like smoking or fidgeting, no." 

Stone stared at his feet again. "Ah see. So, these scars had to have been administered by someone who knew what they were doing, like a surgeon." 

Mulder squared his shoulders. "While investigating the death of one physician, my partner and I did encounter another who admitted to having performed the surgery." 

Stone nodded. "Ah see you anticipated my next question, Mister Mulder. My client is no surgeon, so to live up to the Prosecution's contention, we have to believe that he coerced another man to cut Marines, years before meeting you, just for the express purpose of convincing you that a larger Conspiracy existed, when none really did." 

Pollack was on his feet, but Stone bowed to him. "I think I've asked Mistah Mulder all the questions Ah need to for today." 

Judge Anderson faced Pollack. "Any redirect, Mister Pollack?" 

Pollack sank slowly to his seat. "No, Your Honor." 

Anderson turned to Mulder. "Then the witness may stand down."

After Mulder slid into his seat beside Scully, she tugged on his sleeve until he moved his ear towards her lips. "Mulder, don't you think Stone's pouring on the Southern gentleman routine a tad thick?" 

Keeping his hand below the level of the seats, he flicked an index finger at the jury. "Of course, Scully, but the only audience that counts is eating it up over there."

Judge Anderson's chair groaned. "Since it is well past the noon hour, and the Prosecution and Defense are finished with this witness, we will take the lunch recess. Court will reconvene at two thirty." A slap of the gavel, then the whoosh of the audience rising ushered him to his chambers.

Mulder turned to Scully. "They're all back safe?" 

She nodded. "Cynthia is staying with Skinner and his wife." 

He stepped into the aisle to let her walk out ahead of him. "Better than one of our two bachelors."

Scully glanced back over her shoulder. "Or the Gunmen." She rubbed a slip of paper between her fingers. "They called for us during your testimony. I don't know what you were planning on for lunch, but an apple or an orange from the Courthouse lunchroom would do me just fine." 

Once they had shuffled into the hallway, he pointed to the door. "If you want to call them, go ahead. I'll be back with your fruit, Jane." 

Digging in her suit pocket for change, she headed for the pay phones in the lobby.

\--o-0-o--

Taking advantage of an unseasonably warm day, the agents had chosen to take their lunch on the south-facing steps of the courthouse, as had several other small groups.

His mouth full of cheeseburger, Mulder leaned over his partner, who was squinting in an attempt to read her notes. "What did they say?" 

Scully rolled her orange rind into a paper napkin. "They've found more of those pentagon-shaped patterns in the desert regions of Africa, specifically along the Western Rift valley." 

Mulder frowned. "I wonder why they haven't made a greater attempt to conceal themselves, or at least restrict data over the area?" 

Scully snatched a french fry off Mulder's plastic tray, savoring her forbidden prize. "Could it be that the new Group in charge doesn't know it has assets down there to protect?" Dodging his swatting hand, she dunked the end of the fry in his catsup. 

Mulder cocked his head. "Or could they be done with their work there, so not care who finds out what they have?" 

Finished, she sighed. "Could that retrovirus I was injected with be the end product, rather than an interim test?" She wrapped her arms around her knees, suddenly cold on this clear fall day. "It's possible, but I doubt it. The retrovirus worked so poorly that nearly all the test subjects died, Mulder. I know what I found at that Leper camp. Pits of dead bodies." 

Dropping the remains of his burger to the blue styrofoam platter, Mulder leaned protectively towards his partner. "But why not just bring chimps over here and breed them?" 

As a gust of wind swept the stairs, Scully tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Because it doesn't fit with how they've handled the human test subjects. They wanted as broad a genetic data base as possible. Any captive breeding program will be limited only to the variability inherent in the original specimens. It's a longstanding problem for zoos with endangered species, you know." 

More interested in the discussion than the food, he tossed his napkin on the fries. "But with this Mitochondrial Eve theory, aren't we limited as well?" 

"Not as much as you might think, Mulder. We're looking at the problem of inheritance from the far end of a telescope, as it were. Consider what happens in isolated villages in Europe with names, how eventually nearly everyone has one of a few surnames."

He considered this. "If a man never marries, or has only daughters, his family name isn't passed on. Eventually, after enough generations, only sons of sons of, etcetera, etcetera leave a mark in the village phone book." He touched her elbow. "Could that be what's happening with the Consortium, we've been so busy nailing down one organization's structure that we've missed several parallel Groups?" 

Standing, she smoothed down her suit jacket. "Possibly. Ishimaru wasn't working on his own. But for security, they probably didn't exchange too much information about their power structures." She tapped her watch. "It's almost two thirty. I'll be in the hot seat next." 

Mulder smirked. "Well, Pollack'll have trouble making you sweat. Good thing you wore flats today. I know whom most of the men on the jury will be rooting for, Scully." 

As they climbed, she glanced over. "I hope most of the women, too."

\--o-0-o--

Federal Courthouse  
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania  
Monday, 2:34 pm

A battered soft-cover Bible in her left hand, her right arm already cocked upright, the heavy-set woman in blue stood before Scully. "Dana Katherine Scully?" 

The auburn-haired pathologist nodded. 

After a sigh, the bailiff read out the oath for her to repeat. 

Scully dutifully mouthed the familiar words. 

The bailiff lowered the black volume, then waved at the witness box. "You may now have a seat." 

Stepping up onto the raised oak floor of the paneled space, Scully lowered herself into the padding with a conservation of effort born of long practice.

Prosecutor Pollack paced in front of the Agent, eyeing her occasionally as he fumed. When he felt he had stretched out his performance as long as he dared, he spun on one heel, bending over into the witness box, as close to her face as he dared. "Would you be so kind as to tell us how you happened to come to work with Fox Mulder?" 

Scully's green-blue eyes dilated slightly. "I was assigned to the X-Files by Division Chief Blevins..." She blinked when she heard Stone's chair legs scrape the floor. 

The lanky attorney struck his oak table once. "Your Honor, I fail to see what relevance this question has to the case at hand." 

Judge Anderson shifted in his seat, taking his chin out of his palm with a grunt. He had been gazing approvingly down on the diminutive agent from the moment she stepped through the gates separating the court from the audience. "Humph, Mister Stone." The chair rotated, ominously slowly. "While your objection is duly noted, I'm inclined to grant the Prosecution leeway in establishing his case." His hand rose to support his head again. "Go on, Mister Pollack." 

After sending the Judge a dark look, Stone resumed his seat. 

Saunders edged a pencil to the edge of the oak table-top, using the excuse of picking it up to check Mulder's face. The agent behind him was scowling at the man on the dais, as irritated as Stone that not everyone was taking the flame-haired woman as seriously as they ought to. 

Pollack leaned back into the witness box. "Continue with your answer, Agent Scully. Or do you prefer Doctor?" 

There was the barest ripple of surprise crossing her left cheek, then she tilted her chin up slightly. "Either will do. I'm a licensed forensic pathologist working for the Bureau, Sir." 

Pollack adopted a similar pose to the man above him, gratified when Scully slid as far to her left in the wide seat as possible. "Really? How often do you get to use those skills of yours, chasing," he questioned, held up two folders, "fat sucking mutants and sentient metallic cockroaches?" 

A titter ran through the jury, ignored by Scully as she folded her hands in her lap. "Unfortunately, all too often, Sir. Remember that in nearly every one of our cases, an unexplained death has occurred, a premature termination to a life much like yours or mine. All these victims deserve justice." 

The twelve men and women froze, Scully's words focusing them. "Even in the case of the 'fat-sucking mutant', there were six women who fell prey to a ruthless stalker, a man who is now serving as many life sentences as the result of our investigation." The auburn-haired pathologist leaned forward, her back ram-rod straight. "What convicted Virgil Incanto was *not* some idle speculation, but the tangible evidence he left behind on every victim: skin under the fingernails, blood with chromosomal structures unique to the suspect, a confession revealing particulars of the crimes only a participant would know." She settled back. "I have no apologies to make for my years with the X-Files, Sir, or my work with Agent Mulder..." 

Pollack held up his hand. "That will do, Doctor Scully. Your integrity and dedication to justice are not on trial here." He walked slowly back to his table, where he sifted through a stack of brown folders. 

Scully remained rigid, her green-blue eyes boring into the Prosecutor's spine. 

Pollack swiveled, forcing Scully to drop her gaze to her hands. He began questioning her from his stance by the table. "Let's turn that analytical mind of yours to your first encounter with the defendant." He rearranged several sheets in the folder in his hand.

The woman on the high seat relaxed marginally. "I first met the defendant..." 

The round face snapped towards her. "Agent Scully, let me direct your testimony, if you don't mind."

Stone called out a protest from a slouch that hid most of his long form under the deep oak table. "I object, Your Honor. Council is badgering the witness." 

Pollack shook his head. "She's presently my witness, Your Honor." 

Anderson lifted his gaze from Scully's profile, partially concealed behind her helmet of hair. "Oh, I'll allow Mister Pollack all the latitude he needs here. I hardly think this witness is one who could be badgered." 

Pollack nodded to the judge as he crossed to stand in front of Scully. "What was the specific catalyst for the case you and Agent Mulder were pursuing at your first encounter with the defendant?" 

Scully gazed at the back door of the courtroom. "Agent Mulder and I were investigating the unexplained deaths of several abortion doctors who had identical appearances." 

Pollack glanced down at the folder before him, momentarily at a loss. "Hold on for a moment, Doctor Scully." He stalked back to his table, hissing angrily at his two assistant prosecutors before he snatched a different folder from the African-American woman. 

Judge Anderson rotated slowly to eye the knot of attorneys. "Would you like a recess, Mister Pollack?" 

Pollack straightened. "That won't be necessary, Your Honor." He stood by the table. "You didn't actually engage in a conversation with the defendant in the course of this case, did you, Agent Scully?" 

She arched her shoulders. "That's correct, Sir. He spoke to me, but I did not speak to him. He had given Agent Mulder information vital to the solution of our case, and plane tickets to the location of a large piece of evidence. Agent Mulder had immediately pursued this lead and I was attempting to follow him." 

Pollack opened the folder. "He ditched you?" 

Scully's jaw went rigid. "The very nature of some of our cases requires an immediate response under certain circumstances. Agent Mulder was in pursuit of evidence too evanescent to delay. He left me a note." 

Pollack nodded. "Very well. We'll return to that point. Your encounter with the defendant, then. Tell me about that." 

Scully settled back in the chair. "I had sent the message through customary channels stating that I wished to meet with the defendant at Agent Mulder's apartment." 

When she took a breath to continue, Pollack shook his head. "What was that signal, Doctor Scully?" 

She focused on him momentarily, before she returned her gaze to the back doors. "Two pieces of masking tape, crossed into an X, on Mulder's apartment window." 

Pollack favored her with a theatrical smile. "Oh, come now, Agent Scully, this sounds like James Bond, not the Bureau of Director Freeh. Are you asking us to believe that the defendant had nothing better to do with himself than hang out across the street from Agent Mulder's apartment, waiting for some covert signal for a meeting?" 

Scully clenched her fists. "Sir, I cannot tell you how long Agent Mulder would wait for the defendant to appear under other circumstances. But I can tell you that each time I have used this signal to alert the defendant to a meeting, the delay in his arrival has been several hours, if not to the next day. I concluded from that passage of time that the defendant would check Agent Mulder's apartment on a regular basis, such as, while on the way to or from work." 

Obviously playing to the jury, Pollack nodded. "Very logical, as always, Agent Scully. Go on. What did the defendant say to you?"

"He apologized, then said he had the wrong apartment." She glanced at her partner for the first time since she had taken the stand. "The next person to appear at the door was Assistant Director Skinner, who had the information I was seeking." 

Stone was on his feet. "Your Honor, I hardly see how this line of questioning is relevant to the case at hand." 

Judge Anderson nodded. "I concur with the Council for the Defense in this case, Mister Pollack. Please make an attempt to bring the questions to bear on the matters before us." 

Pollack whirled. "Your Honor, I'm attempting to establish the mental stability of the defendant. I see I'll have to proceed more quickly." He trotted back to his table to return with a different folder. "Very well, Agent Scully, let's move forward in time to November of 1995. This time, you and the defendant conversed at length, did you not?" 

Scully laid both hands flat on her lap, puzzled by the Prosecutor's choice to dwell on these cases. "We did, Sir." 

Pollack removed Scully's report from a folder labeled XF03-0008. "And would you relate the content of that conversation to the jury for us, Doctor Scully?" 

She nodded. "The defendant warned me that Agent Mulder's solo pursuit of a lead on the investigation underway would put his, Agent Mulder's that is, life in danger unnecessarily." 

Pollack removed a gold fountain pen from his lapel pocket, using it to rap out a rhythm on the papers. "*Solo* pursuit? He ditched you again?" 

If Scully's face had been a porcelain mask before, her whole body froze into marble now, only her green-blue eyes alive, burning holes in the Prosecutor's brown ones. "Agent Mulder was in pursuit of more evidence of an evanescent nature. He had informed me by telephone of his intentions and I was offering what assistance the circumstances permitted." 

The low words dropped the courtroom into silence, but brought Stone to his feet. "Your Honor, Agent Mulder is not the one on trial here. His behavior is irrelevant to this case." 

Anderson nodded. "I concur with the Council for the Defense. Please make your point, Prosecutor Pollack." 

Pollack slipped the pen away. "Very well. When was the next time you conversed with the defendant?" 

Scully would not allow herself to relax. "Later that next day, he contacted me by phone to inform me that Agent Mulder was in the hospital, recovering from a beating. He gave me the location." 

Pollack closed the folder. "Did he tell you how Agent Mulder received his injuries?" 

One ginger brow arched. "No, Sir." 

Pollack nodded. "Do you know how Agent Mulder received his injuries?" 

Her eyes flashed. "I was informed by Agent Mulder..." 

"Object! Hearsay! The Prosecution should have put those..." 

"Agreed, Mister Stone."

Pollack sighed. "You cannot, of your own eyewitness, verify that the defendant did not administer those injuries to Agent Mulder himself, in an effort to manufacture evidence of a Conspiracy where none otherwise existed?" 

Scully's lashes fluttered. "No, Sir, I cannot." 

Pollack turned to Stone, who was practically bent double over the width of the defense table. "I have no further questions. Your witness, Mister Stone." 

The lanky attorney bounded to the witness box, leaning against the birch paneling once again. "Agent Scully, was the information the defendant gave you, in both of these cases, substantially correct, or in error?" 

Her shoulders sagging, she slumped into the stiff leather cushions. "It was more correct than I had initially anticipated, Sir." 

Stone dropped both hands in his pockets. "Let us return to your first encounter with the defendant. You eventually followed Agent Mulder, did you not?" 

"Yes, Sir." 

Stone bowed. "When you arrived at Agent Mulder's location, was there any evidence the defendant had been present?" 

Scully glanced at her hands. "No, Sir, none." 

Stone smiled gently at her. "Thank you, Agent Scully." He raised his eyes to the man on the dais. "I have nothing further, Your Honor." 

"Any re-direct, Mister Pollack?" 

Pollack rose, snapping Scully back to full alert. "Agent Scully, you were rather occupied with Agent Mulder when you arrived at his location, were you not?" 

Scully's answer was barely audible. "Yes, Sir." 

Pollack leaned over the table, resting his weight on both hands. "Too busy to check for the defendant's presence?" 

"Agent Mulder's life was in imminent danger, and I was in sole possession of the cure. I was attending Agent Mulder as a physician in this instance, not a partner, Sir." 

Pollack fingered his pens. "Highly commendable, Doctor Scully. That will be all." 

Anderson turned to Stone, who simply shook his head. The judge then leaned over toward the birch box. "The witness may stand down." 

Gratefully, the auburn-haired agent returned to her seat by her partner, who turned hollow eyes to meet hers. She brushed the long hand resting on his thigh with her fingers, struggling to send him a slight smile. Scully had no desire to reopen old arguments, as the Prosecutor was attempting to do. 

Anderson was gaveling the court back into silence. "You may call your next witness, Mister Pollack." 

The grey-haired attorney scanned the courtroom. "I had anticipated spending more time on these witnesses than was required, Your Honor. My next witness is testifying in a different trial today, but should be available to take questions tomorrow." 

"Very well. Court stands adjourned until the hour of ten AM tomorrow."

\--o-0-o--

Pool Allegheny View Motel  
Monday, 4:27 pm

Dana Scully was slicing her way through the heated water of the indoor pool, hoping that, like her partner, she could release the tension of the day's testimony into its chlorinated depths. Mulder, having finished what he considered a reasonable amount of pre-supper exercise, was lounging on one of the canvas chairs, a thick white towel draped around his shoulders. When the door to the high space snapped open, he nodded to the bean-pole of a man who emerged, still in the same grey suit he had worn in court. 

Mulder pulled himself to his feet, ambling as slowly as Stone, meeting him halfway down the length of the wooden deck. "Evening, Jarred." He smirked as his partner splashed past them, she not caring that her strokes lacked their usual Navy-trained precision. "The Doctor here wanted to take a few turns in Poseidon's realm." He tipped his head, knowing this was one of the few men he had to look as far up to as Scully did to him. "She's convinced all this sitting around is making her flabby." 

Stone chuckled. "If that woman has an ounce of fat, I'm knee-high to a toadstool, Muldah." He shoved his bony hands in his pockets. "Actually, if you think we could reel your water nymph in, I need to talk to both of you about a strategy change." 

Catching Stone's expression, Mulder grinned. "Ooh, Jarred, I thought you were a married man." 

The attorney's hazel eyes followed the black one-piece as Scully dove to reverse direction. "Ah may be married, but Ah'm not dead." 

Mulder let out a shout that was a cross between a whoop and a yelp. 

Scully's legs dropped beneath her, then she eyed her partner with surprise. 

While waving her in, Mulder muttered to Stone, "I knew that would do it." 

Stone bent over the dark-haired agent. "If that's your idea of a rebel yell, mah friend, Ah'm powerful glad Mississippi and Massachusetts was on opposite sides during the War between the States." His voice resonated deep in his chest. "Powerful glad."

Shrugging, Mulder knelt to offer Scully a hand out of the pool. "See, Doctor, I *have* been keeping up on my physical therapy."

She grasped his muscled upper arm, as he did hers, then with a practiced kick, she vaulted out of the water to sit on the cedar surround. "Oh, so *that* was what those women you kept bringing back to your hotel room told you they were." She tipped her head teasingly.

Happy to be sharing in this relaxed moment, Stone smirked at the exchange.

Keeping her motionless with one arm around her shoulders, Mulder began rubbing her hair playfully with one end of his towel. "Jarred needs to talk a little business, partner." 

Letting one cheek dimple, she tugged at the terrycloth until it slid off his neck. "Oh?" She rolled to her knees, then stood, practically bending over backwards to meet Stone's dancing eyes. "Do you know who this witness they'll be introducing tomorrow is?" Finished drying herself, she tossed the towel over Mulder's head, eliciting chuckles from both men.

Stone held out her white bathrobe, waiting until she had tied it closed around her to reply. "No, but since you've defeated King Neptune, I'd like to use you to present most of our case, rather than this droll New England boy heah." 

Scully cocked an eyebrow at her partner. "I could hardly imagine why." 

Suddenly cold in only the red Speedos, Mulder had crossed his arms over his chest. "Yeah, it makes sense. The jury seems to find you more credible." 

She nodded. "Okay. We'll talk about it over dinner?" At the single nod from the long head, she spun on her heel. "Give me a few, guys." 

Mulder began trotting after her, but Stone stopped him with a touch on his arm. "Having to give testimony like she did can really set one's teeth on edge. Think she's worked it off?" 

After the door clicked shut, the dark-haired agent glanced back at the wet spot on the deck. "Yeah, for now. That's what the goofing around told me. Getting her to really relax and let go of a little of that self-sufficiency has been one of the many hurdles we've faced in our partnership. Meet you out front."

\--o-0-o--

Office of the Lone Gunmen  
Alexandria, VA  
Tuesday, November 18, 1997  
1:26 am

Andrea Rosen rubbed her face, then glanced at her watch. _It's late._ The rest of the men and Cynthia had felt the time as well, their efforts slowing to inconsequentiality. Cynthia was stacking thick photo-sheets of imagery, smallest on top, stiffest on the bottom. Langly, supine on one of the couches, had rested his laptop on his chest, but the arm that hung off the cushions kept slipping to the floor. Byers had just returned with yet another cup of coffee, but after a single sip, had abandoned the cold sludge. Frohike was out completely, curled up on a corner of the long sofa on the north wall of the room. Only her partner was still busy, whistling softly off-key while he cross-referenced parts and supply houses. 

The brunette astronomer sighed when her cell phone buzzed from the floor next to her hip. "Rosen." She frowned at the caller's words. "It's okay, Cary, you can call me anytime. What's wrong?" She began rubbing the back of her neck, aware that her partner had taken off his reading glasses to chew on one earpiece. "Cary, sweetheart, are you sure? Have you called an ambulance?" She ran her hand, the muscles and tendons prominent under her skin, through her short curls. "Okay. Let me talk this over with Nic. We're in the middle of a very significant case right now." 

Every one of the faces in the room popped back to alertness at her tone. Powering down the laptop, Langly rolled his feet to the floor, then slid to her side. Nichols closed the catalogs to drop them on the cushions. Cynthia glanced up as he passed, so he shook his head at her. 

Rosen's focus pulled in to the voice in her ear. "They've confirmed it? Cary, honey, I'm sorry. I'll call you right back." Terminating the call, she rose to look over at her partner. 

"She's dead?" Nichols touched her elbow. 

"She's dead." Rosen rubbed her hollowed cheeks. "Cary needs me there. She's never been without her Mom." She sent her partner a helpless look. 

With a hand on her shoulder, Nichols guided her into the kitchen. "Ros, it's okay. Cary doesn't have anybody else from what you've told me." He waggled his hand at the four in the light behind them. "With all of them on the case, you can take the time you need." 

Rosen began pacing, tracking a path around the table and kitchen island. "But, this is so important. We need to run the shape-shifters to ground before they can implement whatever plans they're hatching. Mulder and Scully are counting on us to cover for them while they handle the trial!" 

Nichols blocked her progress. "Don't start that, Ros, don't make my mistakes. Go help Cary. Mulder and Scully have both lost family members, so they know about making tough choices. Let me drive you back to your place, then to the airport, okay?" 

Rosen rubbed her face one final time. "Okay. I'll go." She poked him in the chest with her index finger. "But you call me if you need anything. Anything, you hear?" 

He pulled her into a brief, sympathetic hug. "Yeah, sure." Stepping back, he waved to the doorway, where the rest had collected. "We won't let you miss the fun. Right, guys?" 

Four heads bobbed. 

Nichols bent over her ear. "No one likes to have their mother-in-law problems solved this way." 

In spite of the hour, the brunette astronomer found a quick smile growing across her face. 

Langly stepped up to her. "You're doing the right thing, Rosen." 

She nodded. "I hope so." 

After the door closed behind the partners, Cynthia turned to Byers. "I never knew Agent Rosen was married." 

Byers eyed Langly before he responded, "Well, I don't know if I should be the one to tell you this, but she has a wife." 

Cynthia gasped. "I didn't know! You mean?" 

Langly stepped in front of her. "There's nothing wrong with that, is there?" He was edgy, nervous. 

Cynthia shook her head. "I just couldn't tell. I never understood why Preacher Wills would go on about it like it was so evil. But then, we're supposed to love everybody, too, and he couldn't make me hate someone like Agent Rosen." She looked to the blond Gunman for support. "Could he?" 

Langly coughed. "I hope not." 

Frohike stepped between them. "I think we've all been up a little too late tonight, don't you?" He eyed first his friend, then the secretary. 

She yawned. "Oh, please. Director Skinner's is so far away. I won't be any trouble out here on the couch. Really?" 

Byers took her by the arm. "We have a guest bedroom. Vicky helped me set it up while she was home last. If these cave-men haven't used all the clean towels, it's yours for as long as you need it." 

She smiled her thanks as they went down the hall to their rooms.

\--o-0-o--

Dulles Toll Road  
Northern Virginia  
Tuesday, 2:14 am

Rosen shook her head. "Nic, no matter how many times you tell me not to worry, I still don't feel right about leaving you like this." 

Nichols chewed his mustache, seeking a suitable excuse to put his partner's mind at rest. "Would you feel better if we ran it past Skinner? I'm certain Cynthia will be with the Gunmen until at least tomorrow night, and he should be informed of her whereabouts." 

Clenching her fists tightly, she crossed her arms. "Does he need to know?" 

Nichols sent her a tiny smile. "Not if you don't want him to." 

Her shoulders sagged. "Okay. You know where he lives?" The words were soft with acquiescence. 

Nichols nodded. "One too many Bureau functions at the Assistant Director's home. Sharon enjoys throwing the occasional party." 

Rosen yawned. "Did you manage to get Alicia to any of those affairs?" 

Nichols knuckles whitened on the steering wheel momentarily. "Leese always felt inferior to the lovely Sharon. No matter how many times I tried to reassure her, she never felt she could measure up." He turned to face her momentarily. "Get some rest, Ros. It'll be at least forty-five minutes from here back to Falls Church." 

Pulling her jacket closed around her, Rosen reclined her seat. "Thanks, Nic." 

He shook his head. "Ah, thank me again, kid, and I'll see to it that you do all the reports for Mulder for the next six months." 

Smiling at each other, Rosen making a mental note of how gravelly her partner's baritone had become.

\--o-0-o--

Skinner Residence  
Falls Church  
Tuesday, 3:07 am

Nichols pulled his Dodge Dart up in front of Skinner's two story colonial. Leaning over his partner, he decided to let her sleep for a few more minutes. He'd smooth the way with the AD first, before bringing her in for what he knew would be a difficult conversation. That decided, he trotted towards the house, hearing his left knee crack as he stretched after the drive. 

When he reached the front door, he was surprised to see light spilling through the diamond window set at eye level in the steel, so knocked more softly than he had intended to originally. 

Walter Skinner, barefoot, in jeans and a sweatshirt, opened it. "Phil." The greeting was spoken without inflection. "Is it good news or bad?" 

Nichols waved at the Dart. "Bad only for Agent Rosen. Her mother-in-law has died and she's, well, she'd like to make her leave-taking a bit more official." He rubbed the back of his neck. 

Walter Skinner's eyes traveled towards the car. "I didn't even know she was married." His features softened from their Marine rigor. "I'm afraid she's tried to pattern herself too closely after Agent Scully." He craned his neck to peer into the darkness. "Is Cynthia with you?" 

Nichols chuckled. "She's safe. She's back at the Gunmen's. This was just supposed to be a quick run to the airport for us, but, Ros..."

Leaning against the doorframe, the bald director rubbed the bridge of his nose, pushing up his wire-rims as he did. "Safe, definitely; sane remains to be determined. Ask Rosen to come up here, if you would. Some things are more important than a twenty-four-hour-a-day job." 

Without responding, Nichols trotted back to the car, tapping on the glass by his partner's ear lightly. When she lifted her head, he beckoned her out. 

After exiting, Rosen smoothed down her jacket. "Is everything okay?" 

Nichols grasped her elbow briefly. "The big cheese wants to talk to you." 

Hazel eyes met brown momentarily, then the partners returned to the house, Skinner stepping back to point them towards the living room. A fire from the previous evening had burned down to the occasional glowing in the ashes, leaving the room slightly cold. Rosen tightened her jacket around herself. 

Skinner waved the agents to a long white sofa facing his armchair. 

"Walter?" Sharon's head appeared around the dark wood frame of the hall entrance, rumpled from sleep. 

The Director made a point of crossing the room to kiss her gently, then cup her cheek with one hand. "Just business, Sharon. I'll be up shortly." After the head disappeared, he padded slowly back to the velvet chair. 

Rosen cleared her throat. "Sir, we hate to interrupt you at this time of night, but, I've had a family emergency come up and..." 

Skinner held up one hand. "No need to explain, Agent Rosen. Your partner has presented the essential facts succinctly. I just wanted to add a cautionary voice to his." He clasped his hands between his knees. "This is a rough profession, Andrea." He waited for the objection he would have expected from Scully, but when none came, he continued. "Agent Nichols has no doubt related to you his own difficulties." 

Rosen slid to the end of the cushions. "But, Sir, we're at a critical juncture in several investigations. Cary can see to many of the arrangements..." 

Skinner shook his head. "There will always be another critical investigation, Rosen. Always. Family, however, is unique." He leaned forward. "I don't know if there are problems back home you're avoiding, but I can tell you from experience, that it won't work. Don't lose what you have chasing something you can never obtain." He waited, having spoken to what he assumed was the heart of the matter. 

Rosen, seeing he had finished, simply nodded. She knew the Assistant Director was a man of few words. That he had offered these was a sign of the depths of his sincerity. "Thank you, Sir." She pushed herself to her feet. "I'll take your advice." 

Nichols and Skinner stood as well, the Director escorting them to the door. 

As they waited by the entrance, Rosen eyed a planter. "That's a lovely Oriental vase you have, Sir. I didn't know they made those in Vietnam." 

Skinner looked down, confused. "Sharon must have picked that up." Distracted now, he bent over it. "Have a good flight, Rosen, and I hope all goes well for you and your family." He was kneeling beside it when Rosen checked back over her shoulder one final time.

\--o-0-o--

Federal Courthouse  
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania  
Tuesday, 8:39 am

Mulder paused at the bottom of the marble stairway when he spotted the brown curls through the crowds. 

Scully, one step above him, turned to look down at him. "What?" She followed his gaze to Rosen, dressed in a black wool pantsuit. "It doesn't look like she has good news." 

The brunette agent came to a stop in front of them. "Sorry, guys, but I wanted to let you know what had happened, in person." 

Mulder canted his eyes at his partner, uncertain as to what was coming next. "Oh?" 

Scully shifted the thick stack of papers she was carrying. "What is it?" 

Rosen sighed. "Director Skinner's been attacked. Nichols and I stopped by last night to tell him where I was going. He found the explosive device then, but I didn't realize it until Nichols called me on the plane. By the time I arrived at Ithaca, I couldn't get a flight out to tell you until a couple of hours ago." She glanced at the strangers trotting up the steps. "It isn't the sort of information one relates over the phone. You never know who might be listening."

One auburn brow arched. "Ithaca?" 

Rosen looked to Mulder, who responded with a shrug. She gulped once, then offered, "My mother-in-law passed away last night, so I was flying back to Ithaca to see to my, ... , wife." She paled slightly. 

Scully glanced at the white and grey stones beneath her feet. "I'm sorry to hear that, Rosen." 

The astronomer frowned at Mulder. 

He responded simply. "She knows." He grasped the brunette's elbow briefly. "I'm sorry, too. We're glad you stopped by to tell us. Do you know anything more about Skinner?" 

Scully squared her shoulders. "What about Sharon Skinner? Is she all right?" 

Rosen crossed her arms. "Nic said they were both okay. Director Skinner had sent her away and was waiting by himself for the Explosives team to arrive when he was knocked unconscious. Once the bomb squad reached the house, the explosives were gone. He's suffering from a mild concussion, Nichols said." 

Mulder looked down at his partner. "I wonder what new technology the Shadows didn't want anyone to discover was in that device?" 

Scully chewed her lower lip, then queried, "Or was is simply an attempt to keep him from testifying for us?" She stepped up to Rosen, rubbing her shoulder sympathetically. "You were wise to tell us in person. We'll all have to be much more careful in the future. Make sure you keep in touch with Nichols while you're back in Ithaca." 

A mirthless smile creased Rosen's face briefly. "Cary's mom's family has been there for generations, always making trouble. But I can go back to DC if you think that would be best." 

Scully returned to Mulder's side. "No. It sounds like the situation is under control back in DC. Since you've adjusted to us so easily, I'd figured you'd had practice with difficult characters, Rosen. Keep us informed, but don't miss your plane." 

After exchanging nods, Rosen jogged to the taxi stand at the corner. The partners resumed their ascent. 

Mulder pressed his hand into Scully's spine. "I wonder what's coming next?" 

She brushed his side with her shoulder. "Probably nothing good."

\--o-0-o--

Courtroom  
Federal Courthouse  
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania  
Tuesday, 10:12 am

Judge Anderson, finished with arranging his papers, water pitcher, and gavel, leaned out over the high dais. "Mister Pollack? Is your next witness available to give testimony?" 

The grey-haired man rose. "Yes, Your Honor." 

Anderson waved his fleshy hand. "Very well, call your next witness." 

The bailiff stood. "Will Michael Ross Luther please come forward?" 

Mulder and Scully were instantly on alert. 

The blue-shirted bailiff waved to one of the Marshals in the back of the courtroom, who stuck his head through the double doors, then shouted the name again. When the Marshal moved aside, a slight, balding man stepped into the courtroom. His undistinguished appearance and grey suit barely caught the attention of the audience, since the witness reminded most of them of some accountant or middle level bureaucrat. 

All, that is, but the auburn-haired woman and her dark-haired partner. Muttering, Scully was digging through the bag she had dropped in the seat beside her, while Mulder, his arms splayed out to the sides, was blocking the aisle. 

Anderson's gavel snapped on its granite base. "Mister Mulder! Would you please explain the meaning of this outburst?" 

Saunders was shaking his head, then commented to Stone in a subdued tone, "Here goes your case, just as I tried to warn you." 

The attorney frowned. "What do you mean?" 

At Mulder's next words, the courtroom erupted into shouts and confusion, while Scully covered her face with both hands. 

"Your Honor, that man is not human!" He bounded towards the judge's bench, pointed backwards as he moved. "That *thing* is a shape-shifting alien!" 

Anderson's only response was to smash the gavel, with its now-cracked handle, while calling repeatedly for order in his courtroom.

\--o-0-o--

End - Zurvan - Chapter IV - Daughter of Metis


	5. White and Black

\-----o---------------------------------------------o-----

Chapter V - White and Black 

\-----o---------------------------------------------o-----

The big oaken axle groaned beneath the weight,   
bearing a great man and a terrifying goddess-   
and Pallas Athena seized the reins and whip,   
lashing the racing horses straight at Ares.   
The god was just stripping giant Periphas bare,   
the Aetolians' best fighter, Ochesius' noble son-   
the blood-smeared Ares was tearing off his gear   
but Athena donned the dark helmet of Death   
so not even stark Ares could see her now.   
But the butcher did see Tydeus' rugged son   
and he dropped gigantic Periphas on the spot   
where he'd just killed him, ripped his life away   
and Ares whirled at the stallion-breaking Diomedes-   
the two of them closing fast, charging face-to-face   
and the god thrust first, over Tydides' yoke and reins,   
with bronze spear burning to take the fighter's life.   
But Athena, her eyes afire, grabbed the flying shaft,   
flicked it over the car and it flew off for nothing-   
and after him Diomedes yelled his war cry, lunging out   
with his own bronze spear and Pallas rammed it home,   
deep in Ares' bowels where the belt cinched him tight.

Homer: The Iliad  
Translated by  
Robert Fagles

\-----o---------------------------------------------o-----

Courtroom   
Federal Courthouse   
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania   
Tuesday, 10:31 am 

The din in the otherwise staid, paneled chamber continued unabated. Mulder's shout of 'alien' had sent some of the audience scrambling out the double doors. The lone reporter from the Washington Post had flipped open his cell phone to begin jabbering excitedly, with the grey unit on his right ear, his free hand on his left. After pulling his witness past the confusion into the open calm of the Prosecutor's table, Pollack was shaking his head in a show of surprise, but watching with a gleam of fulfilled expectation. Anderson had signed to the bailiff to remove the members of the jury, who were filing out, disbelief, consternation, and concern showing on various faces. Stone had barred Mulder's entrance to the court area of the space, his lanky arms holding him by the shoulders while the agent twisted and hopped. Outside of a quick nod in Luther's direction, Saunders had remained impassive, emotionless.

Scully was on her feet, pulling her partner back toward his place. "Mulder, think! The shape-shifters would never help the Shadows, never! There's nothing for them to gain from it!" 

Something in her logic reached him, so he slumped down, still trembling from the adrenaline overload. "Yeah, yeah, you're right. A technology exchange is meaningless, and we know they've sprung the two Samanthas." He sunk further behind Stone. "I blew it." 

Scully shook her head gently, offering what silent reassurance she could. 

But Anderson had rounded on the cause of the disturbance. "Agent Mulder?" The judge pushed himself slowly to his feet, the excessive nature of his girth obscured by his height and distance. Up close, he would have appeared flaccid, corpulent. But from his elevated location in his black custom-silk robe, he projected all the authority of some medieval Lord. "In the jury's absence, would you please rise and explain to the Court the meaning of your outburst?" 

Mulder found his feet somehow, his charcoal suit hanging loose and limp from his shoulders as he smoothed the rumpled wool before gesturing at his partner. "We, Agent Scully and I, have encountered life-forms in the past with the ability to temporarily modify their outward appearance, Your Honor." 

The audience chamber erupted in murmurs. 

Anderson turned the gavel pad over, pounding the granite surface on the edge of his bench. "Order! Order in this courtroom or I shall have it cleared!" His dark eyes unreadable, he leaned out, dropping his voice to a near-whisper. "Agent Mulder, you must understand how a claim like that sounds." 

Mulder clasped his hands in front of him, grasping his left wrist with his right fingers. "Yes, Sir, I do. But, through the efforts of myself, my partner, and the other members of the X-Files Section, we have irrefutable proof of the existence of sentient extraterrestrial life-forms living on this planet." 

The only sound in the courtroom was that of the Post reporter, punching in another number frantically.

Anderson thundered from on high, "Remove that instrument from his possession immediately! There is a man on trial for his life here, and I will not allow this courtroom to be turned into another excuse for a media circus!" 

When the reporter refused to relinquish his phone, the marshal took it forcibly from him. 

Nodding, Anderson called out, "You can have it back at the end of the day, Mister Sterling, or you can use the pay phone like all the other members of the press." He lowered himself back into his chair. "Mister Stone, Mister Pollack, would you please approach the bench?" 

After casting a backwards glance at the dark-haired agent, Stone crossed the open space in one long stride. "Your Honor..." 

His generous lips pressed together, Anderson shook his head to silence him. "Were you intending merely on keeping this earth-shattering news to yourself, Mister Stone?" 

Delighted with Mulder's reaction, Pollack chose to stare in a show of anger. 

Stone's green eyes focused momentarily on the bas-relief figure of Lady Justice, carved behind the judge's seat. "No, Sir, but we did not intend to introduce it until the defense began its case." 

Anderson nodded. "Very well. Proceed with all due discretion for the sanctity of this courtroom." He leaned back, focusing on Mulder. "And you, Mister Mulder. One more outburst like that, and I'll reduce your travel expenses by the cost of a week's room and board, courtesy of the Department of Corrections for the State of Pennsylvania. Am I making myself clear?" 

The dark-haired agent's head bobbed. 

"Very well. When the jury is seated, you may call your witness, Mister Pollack." 

After Luther was sworn in, Pollack sent what could only be described as a triumphant glare toward Saunders and Stone. "Mister Luther, when did you first meet the defendant?" 

Luther grasped both armrests. "In June 1973. In West Virginia." 

Stone bent toward Saunders, who shook his head, then shrugged at his attorney's questioning stare.

Pollack nodded. "How old was the defendant then?" 

Luther let a smile play across his lips. "Sixteen, Sir." 

Pollack paused. "Where did you..." 

Stone's chair scraped over the wooden floorboards. "You Honor, I object. My client has no juvenile criminal record. I demand to know of what relevance his behavior in high school is to the serious matter before us." 

Anderson sighed. "Mister Pollack, if you please, we've had quite enough theatrics for one day." 

The Prosecutor raised both hands. "If the witness will be permitted to answer this question, I believe I can show the connection to this case." 

Anderson nodded. "I'll override the objection for now. Continue."

Pollack rested both hands on the railing. "Where did you meet the defendant in 1973 in West Virginia?" 

Luther's eyes narrowed. "In a psychiatric institution, Sir. His grandmother had placed him there for recurrent bouts of what she liked to call 'freezing spells'." 

Pollack began pacing. "Freezing spells?" 

Luther clasped his hands in his lap. "Yes, Sir. He would go catatonic for short periods of time, a few minutes each day. He'd resume his actions as if not even aware that time had passed." 

Pollack stopped. "How did you happen to be at this institution?" 

Luther leaned back into the cushions. "I was employed there on a part-time basis to work my way through college, Sir. I served as an orderly for five years during the summers." 

"You can verify this through employment records?" 

Luther shook his head. "No, Sir. The institution burned down about five years ago, with all its records and patient histories." 

Pollack began pacing again. "Very well. Then, let's come forward to this year, in deference to Defense Council's concerns. When was the last time you saw the defendant?" 

Luther's small face pulled into a smirk. "In June of this year. The defendant appeared at my door, late on the evening of the twenty second, demanding I not reveal anything about his past to anyone, ever. He then suffered from one of those fits I remembered from the institution. When he revived, I asked him what was so important, but he refused to answer. He simply struck me with his fist until I fell unconscious. I awoke an unknown period of time later, still on my living room floor, but he was gone." 

Pollack bowed to Stone. "That will be all. Your witness, Council." 

Stone rose. "Your Honor, we were not aware of the existence of this witness or the possible nature of his testimony. With the Court's indulgence, I'm asking for a half an hour recess to discuss this latest development with my client." 

Anderson rapped the granite on the edge of his desk. "Recess granted. Court will convene again at 11:15. I presume that will be sufficient?" 

"More than sufficient. Thank you, Your Honor." 

Anderson leaned down to speak to the Bailiff. "Please escort the members of the jury to the jury room, Mrs. White."

\--o-0-o--

The tiny room assigned to defense council was barely large enough for the four of them to stand, once Stone had dropped onto the table that was pushed along two walls in the room.

Mulder glared at Saunders. "Why didn't you tell us you suffered from the catatonia before?" 

The bearded African-American glowered back. "Because I haven't. Luther is lying. He may have worked at a psychiatric institution while he was working his way through college, and my family is from West Virginia, but as for the rest..." He shrugged. 

Scully crossed her arms. "And he's cleverly covered the time he was replaced by a shape-shifter with this story." 

Stone sighed. "All this is very good, my friends, but it still won't erase the destruction his testimony has done. No matter what I ask, it'll look like damage control to the members of the jury. I can't push him on how he knew it was the defendant attacking him, because he no doubt has some lie prepared that will seem plausible. He'll say he felt sorry for you and kept track of you as you rose to prominence as an attorney." 

Mulder ran his hand through his hair. "But we know who's pulling the strings in the Shadows. Our smoking friend." 

Stone rubbed his closely-cropped beard thoughtfully. "The technician working in the darkness. Maybe we can start our own game of cat and mouse. I need some time to think here, my friends." He stepped out of the glass-walled room, pacing up and down the long hallway, his head bowed until his chin was resting on his chest. 

Scully watched the steady, slow progress of his long legs, ambling to the far wall, reversing, ambling to the near one. After several minutes, she leaned her shoulder into her partner's side to drawl, "Looks like you and he have much in common, Mulder." 

The dark-haired agent sighed. "I hope so, Scully." 

Saunders crossed his arms. "Whatever he decides, he'd better come up with something soon. The recess is almost over." 

Stone froze, then a broad smile grew over his face. He clapped his hands together once, then bounded back to their little conference chamber. "I have it, good people. Agent Scully, when I ask for documentation, hand me one of the X-Files on the desk, all right?" 

She nodded. "I presume it is the threat of evidence that counts, rather than its presence?" 

He clapped her stoutly on the shoulder. "Now wonder you've been able to stick it out with Muldah for so long. Let's go, mah friends."

\--o-0-o--

Once Luther was settled in the witness chair, Stone ambled slowly to the paneled railing, resting an elbow there so he was facing the jury. "Mistah Luthah, your coming forward to testify as to mah client's mental state in his youth is certainly appreciated." He allowed what he hoped was a slightly idiotic grin to spread across his over-sized features.

Luther tried to glance toward Pollack, but the lanky form slumped against the wood blocked his view. 

Stone snapped upright, the motion setting the slight, balding man in the witness box on edge. "So, how many other patients did you become this familiar with during your summers at the psychiatric institution?" 

Pollack's chair rolled back. Unlike Stone, who preferred to rock a wooden chair on its rear legs when he sat, the prosecutor sought to come and go with ease. "Object, Your Honor. Immaterial." 

Stone tipped his head to eyeball the Judge. "On the contrary, Your Honor. This gentleman has just testified to a mental condition that plagues my client. Ah'm just attempt'n to determine his expertise in this area." He waited, knowing the steps in the dance he and the Prosecutor with the thickening waist were entwined in all too well. 

Anderson peered down at him. "In light of the recent introduction of this witness, I'm inclined to grant you a certain degree of latitude, Mister Stone."

Suddenly conscious he had rubbed his chin while in session, Stone smoothed down the greying hairs. "Well, Mistah Luthah? How many others were there that you knew this well?" 

Luther attempted to glare directly through Stone's skull. "Not that many. It was a private institution, where many of the clients were from families who wanted their problems hidden away, not treated." 

Stone shook his head. "Barbaric. And mah client's family was different? Were they wealthy, middle class, poor?" 

Luther began rubbing the back of his right hand with his left palm. "I'd say they were poor to lower middle class." 

Pollack was on his feet again. "Objection, Your Honor, what does this have to do with the murder trial before us?"

Anderson waved him to silence. "You introduced these issues, Mister Pollack." 

Stone nodded his thanks, then rested both hands on the railing. "Very well. Did the patients you saw there inspire you to a career in the field of psychiatry or psychology?" 

The shift gave Luther just enough of a gap to catch a glimpse of Pollack's left eye, so he took it, leaning slightly to his right. "Uh, no. It was just a summer job." 

Stone dropped himself onto his left elbow. "Now, Mistah Luthah, ah'm aksin' yeuw, not Mistah Pollack. If Ah thought the Prosecutor had personal knowledge of mah client, rest assured ah'd settle him in your very spot while puttn' on mah case." Detecting a slight motion in the jury box, he canted his eyes in that direction. The African-American man seated alone on the far end of the back row was fidgeting slightly. Deciding to press the advantage, he pulled himself upright. "Well, be that as it may, would you kindly tell me this, Mistah Luthah. What was a poo' black boy doin' in a rich white folks hideaway home?" 

Luther's eyes bulged. "Uh, I'm not sure what you mean." 

Stone began bounding around the open space in front of the judge's bench. "Come, come, Mistah Luthah, we're both from the south." He paused to stare him in the eye. "Aren't we? This was in the days when segregation was just beginin' to be whupped, 1971, Ah thought you said? So there was still one place for white folk-" He stretched out his right arm, then his left. "-and another place for black folk, am Ah correct?"

Luther held Pollack's eye for a long moment. 

Stone loped into his line of sight. "Dew stop lookin' to Mistah Pollack. Ah already assured you he'll have his chance to testify, if needs be. We're talkin' 1971, aren't we?" 

Luther shook his head. "No, Sir, 1973." 

Stone nodded. "Ah see. But this was a rich white folk's place in Tennessee, am I correct?" 

Luther began rubbing the back of his hand again. "No, Sir, not Tennessee, West Virginia. Most of the clients were wealthy, yes. But the defendant's family wouldn't have placed him there if they couldn't afford it." 

Stone glanced at the jury box surreptitiously. The white-haired African-American had a pinched expression on his face, so the attorney chose to make his point, then move on. "Ah see. Thank yewh for that r'ssurin' assessment." He reached toward Scully, who handed him the pre-arranged folder with random sheets of paper in it. When he took it, he began thumbing through the pages, studying them with all sincerity, stopping to slide a pair of tortoise-shell framed reading glasses on his nose. "What part of West Virginia you'all from, Mistah Luthah?" 

Pollack's fists slammed onto his table, setting a pencil rolling along its length. "Objection, irrelevant!" 

Stone smiled slowly at the judge. "Your Honor, this fine gentleman said it was his summer job. Most college students Ah know tend to work close to home durin' the summer. Bein' as Ah'm from the South and all, Ah just can't place his accent." 

Anderson shook his head. "Sustained. Ask your next question, Mister Stone."

Stone bowed toward the judge, then sent a glance back toward Mulder, his dark eyes glowing. "Of course, Your Honor. Were you a psychology major, Mistah Luthah? It would make sense, wouldn't it? You bein' home for the summer, employed in a white folks loony bin and all." He paused to let the phrase settle with the jury members. "Well?" 

Luther shook his head. "No, I wasn't."

"What *did* you eventually go on to study in college, Mistah Luthah?" 

Beads of sweat were forming on Luther's high forehead. "My eventual degree was in Law Enforcement." 

Stone snapped the folder shut, crossing to lean against the paneling in front of the judge, eying the jury as Luther shifted nervously. "Oh. From West Virginia University?" 

"Err, yes." 

Stone nodded, peeking into the folder again. "Ah didn't know there was a program in Law Enforcement at WVU." He sent the witness a small smile. "Well, if you say so, Mistah Luthah. Aftah all, Ah wasn't there." He snapped the folder shut, returning it to the auburn-haired agent. Lifting off the frames, he looked up at the judge. "I'm finished with this witness, Your Honor." 

Anderson turned to Pollack. "Any re-direct?" 

Pollack shook his head. "No, Your Honor, not at this time." 

Anderson leaned over the side the railing toward the witness box. "Very well, you may stand down for now. But if you are called to give any further testimony, remember you're still under oath." 

Nodding, Luther retreated hastily to a seat behind Pollack.

Anderson eyed the clock. "Since we are approaching the noon hour, I'll place the court in recess until one thirty." 

After the courtroom had cleared, leaving Mulder, Scully, Stone, and Saunders alone in the large space, Mulder grinned at his friend. "Jarred, that was masterful."

"No." Saunders' pupils had narrowed to pin-points. "I do *not* want my race made an issue in this trial. Never!" He glared up at the towering attorney. 

Stone bent over the table, resting his weight on crossed arms. "Let me remind you, Mister Saunders, that *your* life is at stake here. I will use any and *all* means at my disposal to see to it that this case is concluded successfully." All traces of the slow-witted Southerner had vanished. "Race is a painful issue for both of us, certainly, but that man was obviously lying through his teeth. He's never been a month in West Virginia is my guess, and neither have you since leaving home, outside of business trips. Am I correct?" 

His face granite, Saunders nodded. "You know what the business was, I'm sure." 

Stone straightened, using his height to drive home his point. "Yes, and it sickens me. But you are my client, so we'll deal with that later." 

Scully reached across the swinging double gate to brush Stone's sleeve. "He's not behind this." 

The three men focused on her. 

She arched her shoulders momentarily. "The Smoking Man isn't pulling strings, not yet, anyway." 

Saunders' hawk-like gaze locked onto her eyes. "That should be blitheringly obvious, Agent Scully. *He* would have come up with a much better lie." 

Mulder jammed both hands in his pockets. "So, who's next? Skinner? One of the four?" 

Scully rubbed her forehead. "I don't know, Mulder."

\--o-0-o--

Courtroom  
Federal Courthouse  
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania  
Tuesday, 1:36 pm

Once the jury was settled, Anderson slapped the granite pad with his borrowed gavel. "Call your next witness, Mister Pollack." 

After several glances toward the Defense table, the elegantly dressed Prosecutor rose. "I beg the Court's indulgence, Your Honor, but my next witness is in Germany. He was expecting to begin testifying tomorrow." 

Slouching toward his client, Stone whispered to Saunders, "Whom would they be referring to?" 

Saunders shrugged. "All the contacts I knew from Germany were killed in the high-rise explosion. I have no idea whom they could have dredged up." 

Stone studied the edge in the dark eyes, then rose, turning to the judge after he was on his feet. "Your Honor, this is the second witness the Prosecution has brought out without informing us as to either his existence or the nature of the evidence he will be presenting against my client. Defense Council asks to approach the bench." 

Anderson beckoned them both toward him.

Pollack bounded to his feet. "Certainly, Your Honor." 

Resting one thick hand on the other, Anderson bent across the railing to hover close to the two attorneys. "Mister Pollack? Is this correct?" He glanced at Stone. "Have you not informed defense council of this witness?" 

Pollack shot Stone a triumphant stare. "We regret the inconvenience we have caused, Your Honor. We only learned of the existence of this man and the importance of his testimony to our case this morning." 

Anderson regarded the two men gravely, finally focusing on the Prosecutor. "I concur with the Defense, Mister Pollack. You've had the Court's indulgence for one surprise witness, why should I grant it for a second?" 

Pollack leaned forward. "This witness will reveal the true nature of the international conspiracy the Defense has contended existed, Your Honor." 

Anderson rested his chin on the hand closest to the defense table. "Mister Stone? If you'd like to take a few minutes with your client I'd be willing to grant it." 

Stone glanced back at Saunders before replying. "Thank you, Your Honor." 

Anderson rose, bringing the rest of the persons in the courtroom to their feet. "I'll need to deliberate in my chambers on this request, gentlemen. You'll have my decision within an hour." A thunderclap of granite on wood. "Court is in recess."

\--o-0-o--

Pollack forced his feet into a trot, moving deliberately away from the Courthouse as a black sedan glided silently alongside him. Once he had put several blocks between him and the tall stone building, he stopped, waiting while the vehicle hovered beside him.

The driver pushed the door open. "It isn't proceeding according to the Young Turk's plans?" He fingered a packet in his jacket pocket. 

Pollack slid into the passenger seat. "So far, yes, it is. But the judge is deliberating on Untersteiner's admissibility. How do you wish to proceed if I'm not permitted to call him to the stand?" 

Two grey eyebrows arched. "Surely you have something socked away in that lawyer's bag of tricks you could use. What are the Four paying you to deliver otherwise?" 

The Prosecutor shifted anxiously. "If that came out, I'd lose my job." 

The old man lit a cigarette. "Then make certain we have a conviction, or at least mount an appealable case. As for a back-up plan, I already have something in the works, so don't lose heart." 

Pollack's hand was on the door release. "Very well. It'll look good, anyway." 

A long drag. "That's all I wanted from you. If the trial goes back to the State, well, there are means of seeing that our inconvenient Mister Saunders is put out of the way for good."

\--o-0-o--

Barely had the four repaired to defense council's interview cubicle before Stone burst out angrily, "Whom else is he planning on seating today? One of those little grey men that Muldah here promises me really do exist?" Crossing his arms, he scanned the three faces huddled close to him.

Saunders shrugged. "This really wasn't necessary. I have no idea who that man is." 

Mulder was livid. "How do we know that? Did Victor Klemper still have ties to Germany? We've seen the Nazi tactics your people used. What are you trying to protect? What haven't you told us?" 

Nose to nose with the dark-haired agent, Saunders growled. "Nothing! I'm the one they want to slaughter here, not you!"

Scully pressed her palm into her partner's chest. "Mulder, consider this. We know this isn't a plan from the Smoking Man. Perhaps the Shadows are more disorganized than we think." 

Stone slid off the wobbly steel table. "Yes. Deception within deception. You folks have convinced me that there are all these secret governments within governments, an anti-United Nations, as it were. What if, in this vacuum of power created by this coup you've only glimpsed, the other shadow governments want to take charge?" 

Spinning away from them all, Mulder put his hands on his hips. "Yeah. So?" 

Scully looked up to Stone. "Then we have to use this man's testimony to draw that out, if not for our immediate purpose, but to know what we'll be facing in the future." 

Mulder, thinking of the three in Santorini, nodded. "Yeah. Maybe you're right, Scully. Maybe we've been handed another opportunity we can't pass up."

\--o-0-o--

Courtroom  
Federal Courthouse  
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania  
Wednesday, November 19, 1997  
10:03 am

The Prosecutor leaned across his table to hand the bailiff a slip of paper. 

After a single nod, she practiced the name silently before calling out, "Mister Jurgen Untersteiner, please come forward." 

A tall man in a European-cut business suit rose, walking slowly down the center aisle, his narrow red fingers landing on seat backs as he approached. 

Pollack rose. "Let me reiterate, Your Honor. We regret the inconvenience of the delay this witness's arrival has entailed." 

Anderson waved the apology aside.

One hand on the Bible, Untersteiner frowned at the interruption, then looked to Pollack, who was walking past him without acknowledgment. 

The Prosecutor paced in front of the jury while the witness was sworn in, moving across to the box as Untersteiner was settling into the leather chair. "Herr Untersteiner, thank you for coming forward on such short notice. To lay the defense council's concerns to rest, would you please tell us how you happened to be here today?" A quick glance over his shoulder while the lanky attorney opened and closed his mouth told Pollack he had silenced the objections for now. 

The round-faced Bavarian, the natural redness in his cheeks and nose standing out against his pale skin, nodded. "Of course. Until just last week, I was under the protection of the National Security Administration. I had evidence about counter-espionage agents operating within US borders they wanted to verify." His heavily accented English, combined with his deep, soft voice, made his words difficult for the court recorder to capture, so she had been typing slowly. 

Pollack noted her hesitations. "Please, Mister Untersteiner, speak up a bit." 

He nodded. "Very well. The government of the United Germany has been slowly working its way through the archives of the former Deuches Democratishes Republic - " 

Pollack glanced at the jury. "You mean East Germany?" 

Untersteiner frowned. "Ah, yes, that is what you call it here. I was one of the agents working over that information, and among the papers, we discovered documentation of a cell of counter-agents within the scientists and engineers brought over at the end of the Second World War." 

Pollack leaned on the railing. "But I thought those men, like Werner von Braun, were all checked and double-checked by our own governments?" 

Untersteiner held up one hand. "Please. They were. They were not approached, not initially, not for decades. The policy of the, err, East German government was to wait until the survivors had advanced in years. With old age comes nostalgia, a longing for the places of one's childhood. That, they used. They asked, ever so discretely, to be put in touch with younger men, men who had worked closely with the original scientists. These were then approached, in the usual way, with offers of money, or to test for dissatisfaction with the American way of life."

Pollack eyed the jury. "They were recruited, in other words." 

Untersteiner turned the phrase over in his mind. "Yes, that is how you call it. They were recruited." 

Pollack waved. "Go on." 

Stone's chair slapped against the railing behind him. "Your Honor, while this is all very interesting history, none of this testimony in any way is related to the charges against my client." 

Anderson's borrowed gavel clapped against the granite. "Agreed, Mister Stone. Will the Attorney for the People please come to the point?" 

Pollack stepped back to face the judge. "If I may be allowed to continue, Sir, I believe I can show how this is relevant, Your Honor." 

Anderson waved him on. 

Pollack rested one hand on the panels separating the judge's seat from the court. "Your sources state that they purposely avoided anyone connected with the US government, is that correct?" 

Untersteiner nodded. "Ja. They wanted access to the technology the East had lost, so they were approaching engineers, computer scientists, or heads of technology companies spun off the space program or the aerospace industries." 

Pollack prodded. "But they had little success, did they not?" 

"That is correct. But that was before one of the men removed from Germany, one Victor Klemper, put them in contact with some old friends of his at a prestigious law firm in Manhattan. There, they were successful in making several contacts, among them a young African-American attorney named Tyrell Lewis Saunders." 

Murmurs in the court were silenced by a sharp rap from Anderson's gavel. 

Pollack smiled. "Go on. Was Mister Saunders brought into this little spy ring?"

Untersteiner shook his head. "No, he was not." 

"Oh? And why was that?" 

Untersteiner steepled his fingers. "A psychological assessment was made of each of the prospective recruits, both through observations, and, in certain cases, direct testing." 

Pollack rested both hands on the railing. "According to these documents, was Mister Saunders subjected to these tests?" 

Untersteiner nodded. "He was. When approached, he had initially been eager to join the cell. He was one of the first tested, and rejected. He was determined to have specific megalomaniacal and homicidal tendencies that would make him unsuitable for use in a long-term covert operation." 

"Elaborate for us, please." 

Untersteiner straightened in the seat. "I am not familiar with all the specifics of the psychological terms, but the basic conclusions were that the subject had too great a desire to either work completely on his own to cooperate. Likewise, his drive to be in charge of any situation meant he would not follow orders easily. After these tests, he was not contacted further." 

Stone was on his feet. "Your Honor, I must strenuously object to this line of questioning. Nothing we have heard here has any bearing on the case against my client." 

Anderson leaned over the edge of the dais. "I must concur with defense council here, Mister Pollack. Unless you can show otherwise, I'll be forced to ask the jury to disregard anything they have heard and have the testimony of this witness stricken from the record." 

Pollack bowed slightly. "My next question will make the connection immediately clear, Your Honor." He faced the witness again. "You weren't only working with the NSA, were you, Mister Untersteiner?" 

The blond man shook his head. "No, I was not. There were two FBI agents involved in the task force examining the East German documents with the NSA." 

"Can you give us their names?" 

Untersteiner's deep voice went soft. "Richard Aherns and Andrew Marchland." 

The murmurs in the courtroom rose to an insistent buzz at the mention of the victims' names. 

Pollack turned to the defense council's table with a triumphant glimmer in his eye. "I have no further questions at this time." 

Stone was on his feet. "Your Honor, in light of the witness' testimony, we would ask that the cross examination be postponed until we have a chance to examine the documents of which he speaks. We will be filing a Freedom of Information request to obtain those records, unless the People plan on introducing them into evidence." 

Anderson nodded. "That is eminently fair." He turned to Pollack, now settled at his place by the double gate. "How about it, Mister Pollack? Do you have these documents, or does Mister Stone have to file for them?" 

Pollack rose. "Since some of the materials contain information pertaining to ongoing covert activities, we're having them sanitized so that they can be introduced as evidence. Mister Stone will be free to subject them to any and all analyses he wishes at that time." 

Anderson shifted. "Does that suit the Defense Council?" 

Stone nodded, a touch of resignation in the action. "Yes, Your Honor." 

Anderson turned to the witness. "Mister Untersteiner, you may stand down. Please keep yourself available for cross examination until Defense Council wishes to call you, and remember, you will still be under oath." He looked over at Pollack. "Do you have any more witnesses for us, Mister Pollack, or have you stretched this Court's patience sufficiently?" 

Chagrin coloring his cheeks, Pollack rose. "If it please the court, that was our final witness." 

Anderson eyed the clock before facing Stone. "Is the Defense Council ready to begin its case, or should we wait until morning?" 

Stone called from his slump under the table, "We would prefer to begin in the morning, Your Honor." 

Anderson nodded. "Very well. Court stands adjourned until the hour of ten tomorrow morning." One rap, then the high seat was empty.

\--o-0-o--

Room 247  
Allegheny View Motel  
Wednesday, 6:13 pm

Stopping outside her bathroom, Scully heard the door for her partner's room open and slam shut. _He's back._ After listening to the bed-springs creak, then the crack of a fist against the wall, she knew the long, relaxing shower she had promised to treat herself to after her extra laps was out of the question. Still in her bathing suit, she collected her room key card with a sigh, then crossed the hall. "Mulder?" 

There were angry thumps as he approached the door. "If Jarred called, I'm not hungry." More stomps, receding to the far end of the room. 

Scully rubbed the back of her neck. "Mulder, we've faced this before." She propped herself against the mud-brown painted steel, the color as distasteful and utilitarian as the pale green of the hall. "Mulder?" She lost the struggle to suppress her undertone of fatigue as she called him more softly. Failing to hear his approach this time, she found she was staggering to regain her balance when he pulled the door open. 

Mulder grasped his partner's shoulder, a glimmer of a smirk crossing his long face when he took in the black one piece. "Sorry. Come'on in." 

She settled into the closest armchair. "We'll beat this, Mulder. We will." She raised her chin, hoping her posture would convey the certainty she feared her voice lacked. 

Pulling off the sweat-soaked thermal shirt, Mulder dropped onto the foot of the bed. "We have to, Scully. This is our best shot at exposing the Shadows." He yanked off his running shoes, tossing them, along with the black Gore-tex, toward his bathroom door. "But what if their evidence is *too* good? What do I do then?" 

Her breath caught at his slip. _Do you really think you'll be abandoned again?_ "*We* find the flaws in it. Pollack may have given *us* the break *we* need, you know." 

Her repeated emphasis snapped his hazel eyes up to meet her green-blue ones. _Thanks, Scully._ "Oh?" 

She slid to the end of the scratchy tan cushion. "We get to make our case first, present all those mounds of evidence, slowly, carefully. You know Stone won't recall Untersteiner the minute the documents clear. You know we can give it to the guys, to Pendrell, to *anybody* to find any weaknesses." Shifting over beside him, she made a face, then eased away from him with a teasing grimace. "I think you were right earlier, Mulder, this is an opportunity we can't pass up." 

He ran both hands through his hair, the perspiration leaving it matted. "You think these documents will turn out to be real, don't you?" He sent her a hopeless look. 

Scully shook her head. "I think whatever age the documents purport to be will turn out to have been correct. I think the psychological tests will have been genuine." 

Letting out an exasperated snort, he bounded off the bed. 

Undaunted, she continued. "I think that's how far back the cover-up goes." 

Now he knelt to look her in the eye. "You think they've prepared for this decades ago?" He shook his head. "Jeez, Scully, we don't stand a chance." 

She set her jaw firmly. "I think they've been prepared for *a* leak, for *a* turncoat, but it will take time and sophistry to tailor the authentic documents to match *this* leak, *this* turncoat. We've been through this exercise before, as I said out there." She waved at the door. "The old men, the ones who really knew Saunders, are dead. The new leaders don't know him all that well, or they never would have kept him at arm's length until he came over to us." 

He flopped angrily into the armchair. "But there is one old man still alive, Scully." 

She nodded. "We *know* he's not working with them or Luther would have come up with a better story." 

He bounced to his feet. "Yeah, I guess. How can you be so cool with all these games within games, Scully? How?" He bent over, gripping his knees to keep his balance. 

She leaned forward until her forehead nearly touched his. "We know we're doing the right thing, Mulder. We have the truth. That's all." She closed her eyes. "That has to be enough. It *has* to." 

Straightening, he touched her shoulder. "Sorry. I keep forgetting you'll be the one in the hot seat tomorrow. Go hit the shower, Scully." 

Nodding, she stepped toward the door. "It's always easier to tell the truth, you know." 

He held the barrier open for her. "Yeah, that way we don't have to remember what lies we told." 

She looked into his face a final time, hoping her words had been enough, afraid they were not. "Mulder? They don't know what we have, you realize." 

He leaned against the door frame. "How do you figure that?" 

She crossed her arms. "We never had the time to file proper reports on what we discovered in the Arctic back at the Hoover Building, we've kept it all with us. There's no way they can have accessed it off our computers. They don't know what the guys know about the Kindred's DNA, nor do they have the videotapes. They can't touch that." 

He chewed his lower lip. "Yeah." Something approaching an insight dawned. "Yeah." He sniffed. "I guess I'm the one who needs a shower." 

Relieved, she lifted one corner of her mouth. "Okay. You still not hungry?" 

He favored her with a lop-sided grin. "And not have an audience for my next theory? You're nuts, Scully." 

She tossed her head. "Stop taking all my good lines, partner." She slid her key card through the lock, then stepped into her room.

\--o-0-o--

Federal Courthouse  
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania  
Thursday, November 20, 1997  
10:12 am

The heavy-set woman in blue stared at Scully, then spoke in her most officious tones. "The Defense calls Dana Katherine Scully to the stand!"

Judge Anderson found himself beaming his approval at the change in strategy when the auburn-haired agent pushed through the low gates. "Let me remind you, Agent Scully, that you are still under oath."

The diminutive pathologist nodded as she stepped into the witness box. "Yes, Your Honor." She glanced up quickly at the fleshy cheeks before she turned her attention to the lanky giant crossing toward her from the defense table.

Stone smiled politely at the jury before he turned to Scully, who was seated, straight-backed, with her hands folded in her lap. For this all-important day of testimony, she had chosen one of her tailored grey skirted suits, an off-white silk blouse, grey leather flats, and a narrow green scarf. The juries in the two mock trials Stone had staged had reacted most positively to her in this exact outfit. 

The lanky attorney stood in front of her, their differences in height reduced by the elevated platform of the witness box. "Agent Scully, good morning." 

She blinked once, then responded from her endless repetitions with Stone in the mock trials. "Good morning, Mister Stone." She set her lips in a solemn, but welcoming smile.

The towering Southerner bowed his head once. "Let's return to the occasion of your first meeting with the defendant. Would you relate to us, please, the details of the case you and Agent Mulder were working on?" 

Scully nodded, speaking carefully, but with more inflection than she normally used. The mock trials had revealed that she came across as bored otherwise. "Certainly. We had been alerted to the deaths of several abortion doctors across the country." Stepping out of the witness box, she lifted a pointer from the shelf of an oak easel, turning over a cover sheet to reveal the photographs of the Gregors. "What intrigued us was that all of these murder victims had identical appearances, but were from cities all over the country." She tapped each photo, calling off the physician's name and locality. 

Stone stood by the defense table to give the jurors and prosecutors a clear view of her evidence. "Why would that matter, Agent Scully?" 

She rested the pointer back on the shelf as she replied. Her tendency to move her hands as she spoke would have been a distraction with the exaggeration of the long weighted aluminum rod. "Normally, a case of this political sensitivity would have been delegated to a different division of the Bureau, Violent Crimes or Behavioral Sciences, if it was deemed a serial killing, as this eventually was revealed to be. But, the identical appearances of the victims placed it squarely in the purview of the X-Files." 

Stone held up one hand. "X-Files? We keep hearing that term. Would you explain it for the members of the jury, please?" 

Scully faced them directly, keeping her hands at her sides. "The X-Files were initially collected at the behest of Former Director J. Edgar Hoover. They are a set of case files which documented unsolved investigations containing obscure or unusual aspects. We have X-File cases dating back to 1946. These documents, as with most of the oddities surrounding our former director, were kept hidden in the basement of the building named after him." She favored the jury with a slight smile, pleased to glimpse positive responses. "My partner, Agent Mulder-" She pointed to him. "-re-opened these cases back in 1991, while he was still with the Behavioral Sciences Unit. Agent Mulder is a psychologist who drew up profiles of serial killers there. I am a medical doctor with a specialty in forensic pathology. I was assigned to the X-Files in March of 1992 to verify or refute the scientific accuracy of the reports Agent Mulder was filing. Between us, we have a case closure rate of over 82%, one of the highest in the Bureau." 

Pollack was on his feet. "Your Honor, to spare the Court's time, the People are willing to stipulate that Agent Scully has expertise in these matters."

Judge Anderson, his chin in his hand, grumbled as he leaned over to reply to the prosecutor, "I'm going to deny your motion, Mister Pollack. These matters, as you so call them, are hardly in the same category as fingerprinting analysis or DNA testing." He returned to his contemplation of the diminutive agent. "The defense may proceed with its case." 

Stone nodded. "And what did you find when you began checking the veracity of Agent Mulder's reports?" 

Scully flicked her eyes at her partner before she replied. "Agent Mulder was willing to pursue less substantial leads in the course of these investigations than I initially had patience for, Sir. I soon found myself using all my medical and scientific knowledge to explain the nature of the cases we were investigating." She closed her eyes momentarily, mentally chastising herself for not speaking plainly, even at the cost of exposing a disagreement. One of the outstanding conclusions from the mock trials was that her long-winded circumlocutions lost some of the test jury members. 

Stone moved in quickly. "But that was what made your efforts such a success, was it not? Two different viewpoints, observing the same phenomena, driving to a consensus?" 

Pollack called from his seat, "Objection, immaterial, Your Honor."

Sighing, Anderson concurred, since however pleasant it was for him to contemplate the slight woman testifying, justice had to be served. "Sustained. Get to the point, Mister Stone." 

After watching understanding dawn in the eyes of the history teacher, front and center in the jury box, he nodded. _This woman can see subtlety. Good._ "Of course, your honor." He leaned on the edge of the defense table. "What did your two differing viewpoints lead you to conclude about these identical doctors?" 

Scully tipped her head. "These men were indeed being killed, Sir, all by a single individual." She flipped the stiff paper over, exposing a single photograph to the jury. "By this personage, a Bounty Hunter, of sorts." Her eyes flicked to her partner again. "Agent Mulder was pursuing this individual when I found it necessary to contact the defendant for the first time." She stepped back into the witness box. "My initial supposition, that we were dealing with sextuplets, was incorrect." 

Stone leaned on the railing. "How did you come to realize that?"

Scully's eyes dropped to her hands momentarily. "During my investigation, I encountered four more persons, all identical in appearance to the doctors who had been murdered. In searching the medical literature, there have never been more than a handful of live births of sextuplets all of whom survived to adulthood. Nor is it possible for a woman to give birth to successive sets of identical twins, since such individuals arise from the splitting of the same fertilized ovum. My next hypothesis, that we were dealing with a group of men, surgically altered to be identical, also proved incorrect when I obtained DNA samples from the four personages who had come to me for protection."

Stone carried an over-sized yellow envelope from the defense bench to Scully. "This DNA record, to be entered as defense exhibit number one, is from one of those individuals, is that correct?" 

She slid the Mylar out to check it. "It is. It bears my mark." 

Stone passed the sheet to the bailiff. "What was unusual about the DNA in question?" 

Scully held herself perfectly still. "It contains six nucleotide bases, rather than four." 

Stone looked to the jury. "Would you please explain that, Doctor Scully?" 

Stepping to the easel, she flipped to a new page. "Certainly, Sir. Most normal DNA contains four bases: adenine, thymine, cytosine, and guanine. These bases are used in pairs to recombine into the genetic sequences for the chromosomes of every living thing on the planet." 

Pollack began whispering heatedly to his two assistants, who where scribbling notes. The African-American woman passed a sheet to one of the grey-suited men in the row just behind her. 

When the man, as blond and as thin as only youth could be, rose to leave, Mulder followed him. _The jury needs the introductory genetics lecture for what's to come, not me. I've heard it often enough._ Walking purposefully, the blond man hurried down the wide front steps to the street, turning into the parking lot. The dark-haired agent glanced at the license plate on a tan rental Taurus, tucking the characters and digits into his memory for further investigation. 

After slipping behind the wheel of his own rental, Mulder followed his quarry, keeping well back, out of sight. But the tan Ford was making wide arcs, turns, and twists through streets clogged with parked cars and taxis. Mulder was forced to keep closer than he wished, hoping he would not deter the man from his given rendezvous. 

After a half an hour, the Taurus turned off into an underground parking lot, not far from the Courthouse. Mulder slid his rental into a street spot, wondering what stroke of luck left that space open, then crossed into the darkness. He saw the taillights of the Ford as it turned to the right, descending to the next level. Hurrying down the stairs, he checked both ways when he exited. The Taurus was nowhere in sight. Muttering under his breath, he backtracked up the ramp, where his quarry had stepped out of the car to argue with another man in a dark suit and sunglasses. 

_How does he see in here?_ Mulder crouched behind a pillar, listening through the noise of a nearby fan to a quick exchange. But what he was hearing made no sense whatsoever. The two were communicating in clicks and whistles, like what he remembered from the warehouse where the Samanthas had set up their laboratory. The form of the blond man began shimmering, morphing into something else, then the sounds stopped. 

"They know." The blond man offered, his shape solidifying again. 

"Do they have proof?" Sunglasses queried. 

"Yes. DNA analysis. Something must be done quickly, or there will be exposure." 

"Of course. We have been preparing for just such a leak for many years." Stepping closer to Blondie, Sunglasses reached into his jacket. 

Assuming he was reaching for a weapon, Mulder slipped his pistol out of his ankle holster. _Wait._ Following those years of instinct, he kept back, watching and listening. 

Sunglasses then reached directly into the abdomen of Blondie, placing the black cube he had lifted away there. 

Mulder chewed his lower lip. _No blood. They must still be watching the trial. I'd better get back._ By the time he returned to street level, the Taurus was out of the parking garage, two coins clanking against the steel of the parking booth exit collection box. 

A uniformed policewoman was waiting by his rental, until Mulder inserted his key into the driver’s side door lock. "Is this your vehicle, Sir?" 

Mulder froze. "Yes, it is. I'm with the FBI, following a suspect. I'm just going to reach into my coat to remove my ID badge. Okay?" 

Her lips set in a firm line, she nodded. After calling in his number, she yanked the green ticket from under his wiper blade. "You can go. Only next time, check the street signs, Mister Mulder." She spun on her heel, leaving him standing alone on the pavement. 

Mulder pounded the top of the rental in frustration. His quarry had probably finished his mission for Pollack so had returned. _Scully'll kill me for being gone this long._

\--o-0-o--

Dana Scully paused, her forehead tipping only a fraction as her partner reentered the courtroom.

Turning his eyes slightly to his left, Mulder noted that Blondie had indeed resumed his place on the front row, apparently none the worse for his additional mass. 

Scully continued her analysis smoothly. "Using one microscopic sample, no matter how meticulously collected, would be suggestive, but far from conclusive. Instead, we chose to subdivide the physical evidence into six distinct groups, keeping about two thirds of the materials collected in reserve. We divided the remainder into three separate samples sent to three different testing facilities, all of whom were requested to use different techniques." 

Stone glanced at the jury. Several of the members were nodding in agreement, several wore carefully blank expressions, while two wore frowns of slight puzzlement. 

He faced the diminutive agent, now seated primly in the witness box. "What overall observations can you make from these separate analyses, Agent Scully?" 

She rose to walk to the easel once more. "While there were differences between the results from the three laboratories, all were within the error bounds I have indicated previously. Further, those variations were no more than should have been encountered since the evidence was collected from four separate individuals. Yet, all the results were in agreement on one particular. All the materials contained this six base DNA." 

Stone was sailing now, simply prompting the pathologist to break up her otherwise complex testimony. "Do you have any hypotheses that might explain the presence of this six base DNA?" 

Pollack sprang from behind the table. "Objection, Your Honor, calls for a conclusion from the witness." 

Anderson shook his head impatiently. "Overruled, Mister Pollack. The expertise of the witness in this area has already been established. The defense may continue with its case." 

Stone nodded his thanks. "Agent Scully?" 

She resumed her seat. "I cannot tell you, with one hundred percent certainty, where this DNA came from, but I can tell you where it did not." She folded her hands in her lap. "The proteins that make up the two extra bases do not occur naturally. The DNA from any terrestrial species which have been sampled, from the simplest virus to the most complex chordate, does not contain these polypeptides. Nor would it be possible for us to have created these individuals in a laboratory, given our present-day knowledge." 

Stone eyed the jury again. "Why not, Agent Scully? You've just delineated for us how sophisticated our DNA analysis techniques presently are." 

She nodded. "Analysis, certainly. But that is only a small part of the problem. These were fully functioning individuals, capable of performing delicate operations during their lifetimes and achieving positions of some prominence. Any genetic abnormalities would have left them with physical deformities, lowered in intelligence, or simply unable to develop. *Any* abnormality. They must have been the end products of a long-term, and ultimately successful process of experimentation." 

Stone shoved his hands in his pockets. "Now, hold on there, Agent Scully. That's a big leap for normal folks. Would you mind helping the rest of us understand all this?" 

She leaned forward, allowing a glimmer of genuine excitement to show in her face. "The closest analogy I can draw would be to say that a full chromosomal sequence is a book, written with words of four letters. Rearrange the letters and the words will become nonsense. Rearrange enough words and the text becomes meaningless. To make the analogy exact, let us say that we open this book to read it, but can change the text with the book closed. Let us also say that the time the book is closed is the time of development of the individual from fertilization to adulthood." 

Stone nodded. "So we don't know how badly mangled the text is until the book is opened. At adulthood."

She glanced at the jury. "Exactly. It is one thing to have mapped a full genome. It is another thing to know precisely what every individual chromosomal sequence does. It is yet another thing to know how to change those sequences beneficially. In time and with sufficient experimentation, we will know all these things, but we do not know them at present. Yet, here we have a book written in words with a six letter alphabet where the text makes perfect sense." 

Stone rested both elbows on the railing. "How long would you expect such experimentation to take?" 

She held up both hands, palms up. "For a sentient species, centuries. Not to make the modifications, those can be made in minutes. But to wait until the individuals mature to see the effects of the variations, will take the centuries. To happen naturally, to allow evolution to operate, would take about as long as it has here on Earth." 

Stone began pacing in front of the jury. "So you're saying to us that this experiment may already have happened somewhere naturally, other than here on Earth?" 

She held herself rigid. "That is correct. It may have." 

Anderson called for order over the murmurs. 

Stone smiled slowly. "That's a pretty tall tale you're askin' us to swallow there, Agent Scully." 

She nodded. "Yes, the hypothesis seems far-fetched, yet it would explain the evidence we have obtained and analyzed. Six base DNA does not occur naturally. There has been insufficient time for us to perform all the necessary experiments to produce high-functioning individuals with six base DNA. A logical conclusion is to suggest that the DNA, and these individuals, are produced elsewhere." 

The lanky attorney propped himself against the railing of the jury box. "You all ever considered the possibility that somebody might be pullin' your leg mighty hard?" 

Scully arched both eyebrows. "We took specific precautions to prevent tampering by any one individual. Before the doctors arrived, the quarters where they were kept, prior to their untimely demise, were thoroughly sanitized by a team of evidence experts brought in from the Bureau. Afterwards, I worked with a separate group of agents to collect samples from all the corpses. I had a different agent divide the evidence into parts for analysis. The portions were delivered by bonded couriers to three separate labs, returned from the labs by a different courier." She pointed to the folders on the defense table. "You will see, in the records I have kept, that the agents and couriers who handled the materials were recorded as per proper Bureau procedures." 

Stone held up one green folder. "These are the documents you refer to?" He glanced at the prosecutor when Pollack began to rise. "Don't you set the People frettin' there, Mister Pollack. This is defense exhibit number two so you can take a whack at it. You all can read it in bed if needs be." Congratulating himself on the smirks that crossed two faces of two jury members, he passed the folder to the bailiff, then prompted his witness. "So, you don't think it's a hoax, do you, Agent Scully?" 

She shook her head. "If a hoax had been perpetrated at any point in the case, it would have been by the four men who put themselves under the Bureau's protection. Each was killed in his cell, and it is unlikely that any sane individual would be so dedicated as to willingly lay down his life for a known fraud. Nor did they simply leave a fake body behind and escape. We had all points of entrance and egress covered by guards and video cameras, windows included. If somehow they managed to perform this feat despite the surveillance, they still would have left hair, skin, or other microscopic samples of normal human DNA behind. None were found in the re-examination of the cells or the bodies that were left. I performed the autopsies on what was left of the four individuals myself, as the documentation entered into evidence will verify. I took samples of nearly every portion of the corpses that remained, all of which contained this six base DNA." 

Stone glanced at the white-haired schoolteacher, who was frowning slightly. "Your hypothesis that they 'came from elsewhere,' Doctor Scully, how strongly do you hold to it?" 

Genuinely surprised by the question, she arched both eyebrows before replying. "It is, at present, the only explanation consistent with all the facts in hand. Should new, *reliable* evidence come to light, or should another, more conventional, hypothesis be proposed, I shall examine either with due care. If the evidence, after proper verification, shows the present data to be fraudulent, than I shall disregard it. If another theory is presented that links the facts more consistently, then I shall hold to it as strongly as I do the one I have currently proposed." She closed by folding her hands in her lap. 

Pollack was on his feet. "You Honor, while we have just witnessed an entertaining tale of science fiction, none of what we have heard so far has any bearing on the case before us. I must ask that the testimony be stricken from the record." 

Anderson eyed him with annoyance before turning to Stone. "The People have a point, Mister Stone. Defense Council has tied these analyses, thorough as they are, to the present case by the slightest of threads." 

Stone was before the high seat in an instant. "One final question, Your Honor, will I think make all that clear." At a nod from the over-sized head, the lanky attorney faced the witness. "Agent Scully, the prosecution would have us believe that the defendant has been carefully feeding you and Agent Mulder evidence over the years to make it look like there is a huge organization out to protect us all from aliens, when no such organization actually exists. Tell us, was the defendant present for any of the events you have described for us today: the meetings with these four individuals, the investigations into their deaths, your autopsies, the DNA analysis?" 

Scully shook her head. "No, Sir, he was not. He was only involved in determining the whereabouts of Agent Mulder. My partner was not part of the investigation I have presented here." She opened her mouth to say more, but closed it at a slight shake of the defense attorney's head.

Anderson rapped his gavel once. "Since the testimony of the witness has run us well past the normal end of the Court's day, I would like to place the court in recess until the morning, if this is a convenient stopping point for you, Mister Stone." 

The lanky attorney bowed slightly. "Indeed it is, Your Honor." 

The judge leaned over the bench. "Since I can foresee you will be spending much time with this witness, Mister Stone, would it be agreeable to all parties to open the day's session slightly earlier, say, at nine?" 

Stone let a small grin crease his features. "That would be most appreciated, Your Honor." 

Pollack called out from his seat. "The People concur, Your Honor."

Anderson looked out over the audience. "Then court is adjourned until the hour of nine in the morning."

\--o-0-o--

Mulder waited to approach his partner until the room was cleared of all but Stone and themselves. "That assistant of theirs is one of the shape-shifters. I observed him meeting another man who placed a black cube inside his body. We must have them worried as to our abilities to identify them."

Rubbing her temples, she nodded. "I agree. That cube is probably some anti-detection device. I'll bring the UV sensor to court tomorrow." 

He touched her arm. "You were awesome up there, Doctor. You made a believer out of me." 

She flicked her green-blue eyes to his face. "Thanks, but you'd believe anything, Mulder." She brushed her shoulder against his arm to soften the criticism. "Stone was right about soft-selling the alien aspects. There's just so much more ground to be covered." 

Stone bent over them both. "You'll do fine, Dana. Your closing statements about being open to other hypotheses worked with the jury." 

Mulder gazed at his partner, pride and affection shining down at Scully before he looked to the hazel eyes above them. "It only took four years, Jarred." 

Stone broke into his slow, wide grin. "You folks look like you could use some dinner." Stepping back, he pushed open the double gate. "Shall we?"

\--o-0-o--

Federal Courthouse  
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania  
Wednesday, November 26, 1997  
4:27 pm

Jarred Stone smiled at the diminutive agent in the witness box. With only his questions to provide minor prompting, she had led the jury through all of the evidence on the Consortium the X-Files team had compiled. It was now that the extensive verifying legwork of the past two months were brought out to provide any and all support to the documents in their possession. 

After introducing the handwriting and materials analysis that determined their authenticity, she outlined the route for removal of Axis expertise as given in the D'Amato documents. There would be follow-up witnesses, flown in from Italy and now in protective custody, two elderly workers employed by the D'Amato family at the time. 

A week-long trip to Farmington by Mulder and Scully, with a tape-recorder, had allowed them to retrieve most of the contents of the DAT tape. Neither had been surprised to discover, upon returning to the Strughold mine, that the ziggurat both remembered was leveled, the pit beneath where the files had been, filled in. Rosen, Nichols, and the Gunmen had spent their time interviewing witnesses, collecting physical evidence from sites. Undaunted, Scully had led the court through that evidence in detail. A test pit at the Leper Colony had brought up remains which Scully had analyzed. After suitable warnings, she had reviewed the particulars of her autopsies with twelve grimacing jurors. 

The declassified document she and Mulder had retrieved in January was introduced, adding to the mound of materials accumulating in the front of the courtroom. Susan Miles would appear after the witnesses from Italy to explain the DNA signatures taken from the warehouse in West Virginia. 

At the end of every presentation of a segment of evidence, Pollack had dutifully objected, calling their results immaterial, asking that the testimony be stricken from the record. Stone would always respond by asking Scully whether this could all be the work of one individual, acting alone, responding to a mental instability that predisposed him to megalomania. Her answer, as always, was to point to the data collected, to show that it would take many persons working for many years to account for everything they had found. 

Yet now, she was finished. Her timing could not have been more fortuitous. Stone knew the judge wanted to grant the jury and the court a lengthy Thanksgiving recess. He had congratulated himself on their luck in drawing the jurist they had. Now, the impressions of the past week would have time to work on their memories without rebuttal. He nodded to the agent, then looked up at the judge. "I have no further questions of this witness, Your Honor." 

Anderson eyed the marble clock hanging above the double doors of the courtroom entrance. "Thank you, Mister Stone, Agent Scully. If the prosecution has no objections, I will place the court in recess until Tuesday of the coming week." He glared down at Pollack. 

The prosecutor opened his mouth to begin to protest, but seeing the glint of steel in the judge's eye, simply shook his head. "No objections, Your Honor." 

Anderson clapped the gavel once. "Then this session is adjourned." 

After the judge's and jury's ceremonial departure, the courtroom filled with the sounds of men and women coughing, collecting coats and briefcases. Each was quickly making his or her way to the outer doors as expediently as possible, but the effect was that of a stop-action stampede. 

Jarred Stone bent over his client, offering politely, "Ah'll be returnin' to North Carolina tonight, if you'd be interested in accompanying me, Tyrell." 

Saunders’s gaze held Stone's briefly, then the bearded African-American looked away. "I think not. I'm not one for holiday gatherings." He raised his eyes to the towering attorney's. "I thank you for the offer, but please, go enjoy your wife's company." 

Stone turned to speak over the railing to Mulder, but the tall agent was hollow-eyed, slumped far down in the seat. 

Dana Scully had remained in the witness booth, massaging her temples. When she felt an over-sized hand curl around her arm, she spoke without looking up. "I just need a minute, Mulder." 

"Ah think he does, too, Dah-nah." 

She raised her eyes to meet Stone's. "Oh, that's right. Tomorrow is *the* day." She was on her feet, but the lanky attorney refused to release her. 

Stone leaned against the paneling. "What day?" 

Impatient, she replied laconically, "His sister's birthday." 

Nodding, Stone stepped away. 

After a quick glance at Saunders, she settled beside her partner. "Mulder?" 

The tall agent rested his head on the edge of the seat back, but kept his eyes shut tightly. "Good job, Scully." 

The auburn-haired woman waved off Saunders and Stone, knowing Mulder needed privacy now, above all else. The praise had been offered without emotion, neither the affection she had felt, radiating gently from him over the past week, nor the scathing sarcasm she remembered from their first cases together. 

Once the double doors closed, she rested one hand on his shoulder. "We can call Santorini, if that would help."

The dark lashes remained pressed against his cheeks. 

"Do you want to drive back to the Vineyard? We could do that this weekend. We don't have to be in court until..." 

He pushed himself past her, waving her words of concern off as he ran out the double-wide entrance to the courtroom. 

Scully rested her forehead on the cool, thick wood in front of her. _What did I do? What did I say? What did I miss?_ She mentally replayed the last week, running through their day to day interactions. Mulder had been delighted, exultant at the jury reactions to her testimony. It was apparent that each of the twelve members found her presentation credible, her evidence convincing. She and Stone had rehearsed and prepared for two weeks prior to the opening of the case, gauging how much technical content each question should have for maximum impact. Their initial plans to use Mulder first, to lay a more personal foundation for their case had been scrapped when Stone saw how uncomfortable he still was on the stand. 

She leaned back, rubbing her face with both hands. _Was that it? Is he upset with me because I stole his glory, *his* X-Files in the eyes of the law?_ Collecting her belongings, she frowned. _We should be past that. He's the section head, not I. I made it obvious in the testimony that he was the one who initiated nearly every one of these cases._ Slipping into her coat, she froze. She was so used to another pair of hands helping her that she snorted in frustration when the sleeve caught between two seats. 

"Mul..." She chewed her lower lip. _He's not out there._ Tugging until the wool worked free, she heard a snap as one of the buttons broke in two. _Great. This was new._ Collecting her notes, she spun when the she heard someone enter the courtroom from the judge's chambers. 

"Agent Scully, are you all right?" The bailiff had stopped to look up from her work, stacking folders and bags of evidence, photographs and autopsy reports for lock-up. 

Scully squared her shoulders. "Yes, I'm fine." The words sounded unconvincing, even to her ears. 

The blue-shirted woman crossed to stand by the railing. "If it makes you feel any better, you've convinced me, and after all the weird stories I've heard, that's saying something." 

Scully nodded, still confused about her partner's sudden departure. "Thank you. We only wanted to get as much of what we've learned over the years into the public record." She looked over her shoulder. "But..." She shook her head. "Have a good Thanksgiving." 

The bailiff returned to her work. "You, too."

\--o-0-o--

Allegheny View Motel  
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania  
Wednesday, 7:23 pm

Scully turned the knob at the first knock. "Mulder?" 

Her partner, sweaty from a long run, stood without. "You can't keep denying these psychic abilities, Doctor." He cocked his head. "May I come in?" 

The diffident request had her pulling the door open wide. "Of course." After he flopped into a chair, she handed him her bottle of spring water, settled on the edge of the bed across from him, then waited. 

Mulder took a sip, then another, before screwing the cap on tightly. With a sigh, he looked over at her. "Sorry about hairing out on you." 

She leaned forward. "Mulder, those are your cases I was presenting. I tried to make that clear on the stand." 

His lips set in a firm line, he shook his head. "They're ours, Scully, yours and mine. If you hadn't had the presence of mind to pull all that physical evidence out of the cells where the Gregors died-" He studied her carefully. "-while I was tilting at windmills, we would have had nothing. Nothing at all." 

She glanced at the green carpet before she slid off the mattress to bend into his space. "What are you trying to say, Mulder?" 

He pushed himself to his feet, prowling the room in frustration. "I don't know. I ran for ten miles and I still don't know. I don't *feel* anything, no guilt, no frustration, no worry. Just nothing." He ran his hand through his sticky hair. "Scully?" He faced her. "What?" 

The auburn-haired woman was smiling, then let out a chuckle as she approached him. "Mulder, I'm sorry, I shouldn't be doing this, but..." She apologized as she dropped into the chair, smirking uncontrollably. "I'm sorry. Oh, Mulder!" 

The sight of his partner, her face contorted with delight, set a grin tugging at his own lips. "What?" Kneeling, he held her upright by the shoulders. "Scully?" 

A quick shake of her head, then her arms slid around his neck. "Oh, Mulder." Chewing her lower lip, she hugged him tightly. "Only you." 

He dropped both arms in place around her back. "Only me what?" He tried to pull away, but she refused to release him. "What?" 

Finally in control of her mirth, she straightened. "Only you would be frustrated by success, partner." 

Standing, he stepped away. "Oh." Pressing his fists into his hips, he cocked his head again. "So, what do we do now?" 

She shrugged. "Whatever we feel like. We have five days, you know. Sleep late, find some diner open tomorrow, stuff ourselves until we're sick, whatever." A quick upwards glance told her he was still frowning. "Or we take a quiet day off, so you can..." 

He shook his head. "Think about Sam? Yeah, we'll see." He headed toward the door, stopping with his hand on the lever. "Dinner?" 

Stepping out of her flats, she looked over. "Sure. After you shower, though." 

"Yeah. Okay." He pulled the steel away. 

Listening while the latch disengaged across the hall, she commented softly to the door, "Only you, Mulder. Only you."

\--o-0-o--

Federal Courthouse  
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania  
Tuesday, December 2, 1997  
10:09 am

Pollack waited until Scully was settled in the witness box before he rose. He picked his path to the front of the courtroom with care, stopping by the carts of folders and trays of evidence now stacked in front of the judge's dais. After randomly lifting an envelope from the steel mesh basket closest the jury, he stood in front of Scully, bowing his head in greeting. 

The diminutive agent waited, her porcelain features impassive. 

Pollack slid the over-sized print from the evidence envelope, turning it so she could survey the image. "You've certainly amassed an impressive body of data, Agent Scully." 

A slight ridge formed above her right eyebrow. 

The prosecutor gripped the railing with his left hand. "Now, you and I could go back over this evidence in excruciating detail, just as you presented it to the jury. But, that would be a waste of the Court's time." He tapped the figure in the print. "Who is this gentleman? The one in the black trench coat speaking with your partner?" 

Scully glanced down. "That was Agent Mulder's former contact whom we referred to by the code name, 'Deep Throat.'" 

A rustle ran through the courtroom. 

Pollack's eyes flicked across the jury. "Oh?" 

Stone called from his slouch at the table. "Object, Your Honor. Immaterial." 

Anderson shook his head. "I'll grant the Prosecution the same room for exploration I granted you, Mister Stone. It is from your evidence, after all." 

Pollack's dark eyes had never left Scully's green-blue ones. "You were telling the court about this gentleman, Agent Scully." 

She straightened. "He gave us information pertinent to the cases we were investigating." 

Pollack leaned into the witness box. "Did you trust him, Agent Scully?" 

Stone's chair scraped. "Your Honor, this is..."

Anderson's hand rose. "I agree, Mister Stone." He called over the edge of the dais. "Make your point, Mister Pollack." 

Pollack rested the print on the wide rail. "He was the first one to tell you and Agent Mulder of this organization you've so carefully documented for us, wasn't he?" 

"Yes, he was." 

"Did you believe him?" 

Scully’s gaze dropped to her hands. "Not initially, Sir. The scope of the organization seemed too wide to be feasible." 

Pollack's hands were linked behind his back. "What makes you say that?" 

"At the time, we were led to believe that there was a much larger organization at work, and I simply couldn't fathom the cost." 

Pollack spun. "The cost! Good point, Agent Scully. An organization performing tests of this scope would cost millions, perhaps billions of dollars. You would agree to that?" 

She nodded. "I would, Sir." 

He leaned into the witness box again. "So, you're asking us to believe this of the US Government, *our* Federal Government, that regularly runs deep in debt, and has been downsizing for what, five years now? This US Government, is continuing to run a multi-million dollar organization to save us from little green men?" The titter that jumped back and forth across the room brought a predatory grin to the flaccid Prosecutor's lips. 

Scully shifted slightly. "I ask for no one's blind faith, Sir. I have presented reliable evidence proving the same to be true." She flicked her eyes to Stone, who head was tipped all the way back, focusing on an imaginary spot on the ceiling. 

Pollack nodded. "Very well, Agent Scully. You're the expert." He looked up at Anderson. "I have no further questions of this witness, Your Honor." 

After a quick glance at Stone, the judge's gavel struck once. "The witness may stand down." 

Scully slid into her seat beside her partner. "I'd love to know what he has up his sleeve." 

Mulder's shrug of agreement was cut short as Pollack rose. 

The prosecutor held a thick packet of papers in his two hands. "If it please the Court, the declassified documents from the former East Germany have just been handed to me." 

His interest piqued, Anderson stretched forward. "Thank you, Mister Pollack." He looked to the towering defense attorney, now reaching over to receive them. "Mister Stone, if you'd like a little time to examine them, the Court is willing to indulge you." 

Stone grinned up at the judge. "The Court's indulgence is always appreciated, Your Honor. An hour to assess the materials?" 

Anderson gaveled the court into recess.

\--o-0-o--

Scully passed a few of the sheets to her partner, who was standing close in the confined space of the defense conference room. "This is confusing, Mulder, some of these test results contradict the genetic analysis Pendrell performed for us. The variations in the sickling gene that were so distinctive are absent here."

Stone, his arms crossed as he rested against the door-frame, looked down at Saunders. "As if they were attempting to recreate or fabricate data." 

The bearded African-American reached to take the papers. "I was tested regularly, up until about five years ago. These results are more recent than that. It's definitely someone else they've used." 

Mulder rested both hands on the table. "What about the psychological test results? Do they tally with your past evaluations?" 

Saunders skimmed through several paragraphs. "I don't see any glaring errors, no. But the psychological results were consistent from year to year, so any one would be sufficient to identify me." 

Scully was peering closely at one of the films. "These have been altered." She reached into her briefcase for a small hand lens. 

The three men in the room leaned closer. 

Rising suddenly, she placed the Mylar sheet on one of the interior windows, pointing to a blank space in one of the sequence columns. "If you look carefully, Mulder, you can see." 

Holding the lens, he focused on the spot to the left of her finger. "What am I supposed, ..., oh, right, the scratches." He chewed his lower lip. "This is so obviously fake even I can tell." He stared down at Saunders. "What does this mean? Don't they care?" 

Saunders eyed him. "I'm as much in the dark on this one as you, Mister Mulder." 

Stone reached for the doorknob. "I'm going forward with the testimony as planned." 

Scully glanced at her partner before she approached Stone. "They were hoping to distract us while they hid something else?"

Mulder shook his head. "But who are *they*? We have the Consortium, these new groups abroad, the shape-shifters. Who is pulling the strings now?" 

Saunders rose. "My old superior." He met each of their eyes in turn. "He's finally shown his hand. He's obviously fabricated evidence to turn one group against each other. If we walk out there and show that fake data, all hell will break loose. Pollack will accuse us of tampering, the four idiots will begin to suspect each other, and the European organizations will look bad." 

Mulder stepped up to Stone. "We have to move fast, then. We'll have to finish the defense presentation soon. He's not the sort of man to deliberate once he's set a plan in motion." 

Nodding, Stone pushed the door open. "Then let's keep going. I'll call in the witnesses from Italy now."

\--o-0-o--

Federal Courthouse  
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania  
Friday, December 5, 1997  
2:27 pm

Saunders eased himself into the leather seat of the witness box. He set his face into its customary mask, part rigid barrier, part slitted hunting blind. After the sessions with the mock juries, he knew he had to watch his tendency to frown and glare because it came across as sneering. He schooled himself to patience while Stone approached him. 

The towering attorney glanced at the two African-American men in the jury, who were seated side by side today. One, a light-skinned Howard University engineer, had been his choice, the other, a dark-skinned, white-haired plasterer, had been Pollack's. He had watched the engineer, as intellectually engaged as the history teacher, be drawn in by Scully's descriptions of her evidence. The plasterer's face was blank, unimpressed by the mounds of files. He hoped the next few minutes would change that. 

Stone rested both hands on the railing. "There are two men who were present at the time of the deaths of the victims, yourself and Assistant Director Walter Skinner. He was, by his own admission, unconscious at the time. Were you aware that your life might be in danger?" 

Saunders glared at the long-faced attorney looking down at him, but only for a brief instant. _I'm playing a role here._ "Yes. I had recently been relocated because a bomb had been discovered in the previous safe house." _Keep it short, sweet. Don't give the Prosecution any hooks into their larger agenda._

Stone nodded. "What was your first indication that your guards were not all they pretended to be?" 

Saunders forced himself to keep his jaw slack. "When they began attempting to shoot in the door. I grabbed the only defensive weapon available to me, the metal chair in my room." 

Pollack began scribbling notes to himself at Saunders' answer. 

Stone's hazel eyes flicked to his left, having heard the scratching of pen on paper, but continued as if he had not noticed. "What happened next?" 

"Failing to break through the door, they began shooting at the wall just beyond the frame." 

Stone raised his voice a notch. "How did you know this was an attack? You might have called out for help in your sleep. Had these new guards been without keys, they would have possessed no other way of reaching you." 

Saunders grasped his knees in an effort to retain his composure. "First, I was not asleep. Second, if they had been concerned for my well-being they would have been calling out questions. They were not. They were only steadily attempting to demolish any barrier between them and myself." 

Slowly, Stone led Saunders through a description of the attack, concluding the analysis at the point where Walter Skinner appeared by turning to the bailiff. "Would you bring in the television and VCR please?" 

Nodding, the woman rolled a cart from one of the side rooms. On it were the requested electronics, the screen expansive enough for all the jurors to view simultaneously. 

Stone crossed to his bench to lift an envelope away. Holding up a video cassette, he glanced at the jury. "This is a surveillance tape from the hallway outside of the room of which the defendant spoke. I've advanced it to the time just prior to the attack on the defendant." Looking to Pollack, he smiled. "It's our next exhibit, so the People can have it checked for alterations or tampering." 

The prosecutor studied the grain of the wood in his table-top, refusing to offer a silent response to the veiled criticism. 

Stone bent over to insert the black box into the VCR. "Ah apologize for the somewhat poor quality of the images. None of the folks involved in its production are of Oliver Stone's caliber." He played the tape, first straight through, then using frequent pauses and stop-motion to show how the murky, slightly out of focus frames supported Saunders' testimony. Resting the remote on the edge of the cart, he concluded, "I have no further questions, Your Honor." 

Anderson looked to the Prosecutor. "Your witness, Mister Pollack." 

Resigned, the flaccid attorney pushed himself to his feet. "One question, Your Honor." He walked to stand in front of Saunders. "When the so-called attack began, you say you searched about for a weapon. What self-defense training have you been given?" 

Stone called from his seat. "Objection. Addresses an issue not introduced in direct examination." 

"Sustained." 

Pollack regarded Saunders solemnly. "Then I have nothing further, Your Honor." He returned to his table. 

Anderson looked to Stone. "Mister Stone, you may call your next witness." 

Both hands gripping the thick edge of oak, Stone pushed himself out of his narrow chair. "If it please the court, that was our last witness." 

Pollack stared, then covered his surprise by quickly shuffling the white legal pads in front of him. 

Lifting both hands high so the bulky sleeves would clear the folders before him, Anderson leaned toward the towering attorney. "Do you wish more time to examine the evidence Mister Pollack delivered to you earlier this week?" 

His back straight, Stone shook his long head. "No, Your Honor. The defense rests, Sir." 

After emitting a short grunt of astonishment, Anderson turned back to the Prosecutor. "Mister Pollack?" 

Pollack rose. "The People also rest, Your Honor." 

Anderson eyed the clock. "In that case, we'll resume after lunch." He faced the jury members, who were beginning to collect themselves for the break. "We'll recall the jury prior to closing arguments, but after I discuss the instructions you'll be receiving with opposing Councils." He broke into a genuine smile. "Make sure Mrs. White orders you something good, all right?" His dark eyes flicked to the bailiff, who nodded.

\--o-0-o--

Federal Courthouse  
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania  
Friday, 4:27 pm

Anderson waited patiently while the jury members filed back to their seats, then read out the instructions for them to follow as they deliberated. Once concluded, he looked over at the prosecution table. "The People may begin their closing arguments." 

Pollack rose, his hands clenching and relaxing. This was the part of a case he enjoyed least, the long speech to the jury. He loved the thrust and parry with witnesses and opposing council, appealing as it did, to his combative nature. In many ways, it reminded him of his favorite sport, hockey, with all the feinting and misdirection intended to lure the opposition away from the net long enough to score a point. He always felt like this was his penalty shot, which got past the goalie only about one out of every three tries. 

As he paced in front of the jury booth, his opening fell out, the words comfortable, familiar. "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, the question before you in this case is really a simple one. Did the defendant murder two Federal Law Enforcement officers in cold blood? Yes, he did. The defendant himself has admitted to you, on the stand, that he used first a chair, then a bed, and finally a handgun, to assault the two agents. But, he says, it was self-defense. Self-defense? Let us look at the evidence, as opposing council has asked us to. The defendant has admitted to a witness, while not under an imminent threat of bodily harm, that he has killed men over trivial things: an assault to his dignity, for instance. One of the witnesses, Agent Mulder, even saw him shoot a man over what was it, airline tickets, a vial of blood from Agent Scully?"

He spread his arms condescendingly. "Please. What we have here is a man who takes the law into his own hands, deciding whom and over what trivialities to kill. And what are his criteria, I ask you? The defense has provided an answer so elaborate and convoluted I couldn't even begin to refute it all. According to them, there is a secret government organization, working with other secret government organizations across the globe, who have secret government laboratories all across the world. Now, if this highly advanced network of organizations was working to eradicate disease, we could understand that, couldn't we?" He shrugged theatrically. "Most of us really don't want to know what nasty viruses lurk out there, waiting to be brought in on the next cruise boat from South America, or with the next shipment of minerals from Africa." He propped himself against the jury box. "But that's not what these secret organizations are doing, according to the defense. They're supposedly 'protecting' us from 'space invaders.'" He pointed to the ceiling, wiggling his index finger in a circle. "You know, those big-headed, three foot tall, naked aliens who keep impregnating waitresses and bored store clerks." 

Pollack pointed to Saunders. "Now, you're twelve intelligent, reasonable people. This man has been in and out of mental institutions all his life. Why, Agent Mulder put him in one, just this past summer. The East Germans didn't want him as a double agent *because* of his mental instability. Knowing what you know about his mental condition, would you believe him if he told you there were aliens living among us?" He tapped his chest. "I certainly wouldn't. Let's you and I get right down to the essence of this case, this alibi of self-defense. What evidence do we have that it *was* self-defense? The word of a mental patient who believes in little green men and has, by his own admission, killed for no reason at all, and a dark, murky videotape with no sound. I'd say *that* was no evidence at all, just words from a desperate man looking to avoid a double murder conviction." 

He returned to his desk to retrieve photographs of the victims. "Now, I could believe self-defense if the defendant had shown that the victims possessed malice toward him. But opposing council has presented none. Instead, the Prosecution has shown that he was in danger of being exposed as a potential security risk by these two men who were murdered. The Defense even admitted that the victims didn't know that the defendant was the same man." He held two photographs up for the jury. "These were two fine officers, men with families. The actions of the defendant leaves three little girls and two little boys without daddies, two wives without their partners." He left both images in open view of the seated twelve. "So, why, we ask, would they have attacked the defendant unprovoked? Because, according to the defendant, they had been brainwashed by the anti-flying saucer brigade. How do we know that any of that is even plausible? Can we subject these two men to psychological tests?" He slammed both fists onto the railing. "No! They're dead. Did they exhibit any unusual behaviors prior to their deaths? No!" 

Pollack pointed to Saunders again. "But the defendant *has* been tested. You saw the results, you can look at them again. He's not mentally stable. He'll kill for reasons of his own choosing, or, truth be told, for no reason at all. By his own admission, he killed these men. Thus, we ask you to find the defendant guilty of second degree murder on both counts." He wagged the index finger. "Both counts, ladies and gentlemen. Since, despite all the fairy tales the defense has told you, we all know any little green men the defendant saw were all-" Pollack tapped his index finger against his temple."-inside his head. Thank you." 

Anderson waited until Pollack had returned to his seat to nod to Stone. 

The towering attorney glanced at his client before he stood, then walked to stand in the same spot the prosecutor had just vacated. "Well, ah must give my honorable colleague credit. He shore does make Mister Saunders out to be a one-man loony-tunes vigilante squad." He rubbed his hands together. "Little could you guess that he worked his way through college and law school, makin' A's in every class he took." He rested one elbow on the railing. "Now folks, ah don't know about you, but makin' A's is a tough business. Mighty tough." He rested one over-sized hand on his chest. "Ah had to work like the devil, day in and day out, and even mah humble self couldn't quite turn the trick. Darn near impossible if you have little green men runnin' around inside your head, ah should think." A whisper of a chuckle ran through the courtroom.

Straightening, Stone rapped the railing once. "But, ah'm afeared the story isn't as simple as the People want it to be. Not by a longshot. And ah agree with Mistah Pollack, ah do. What we laid out befor' you good people is a tall tale. A tall tale." Hooking his thumbs into the pockets of his vest, he bounced slightly on his toes. "Ah speak as a gentleman from that neck of the woods where we enjoy a rip-roarin' good yarn." Dropping his hands to his sides, he straightened. "But yarn this is not. Tall tales and ghost stories don't usually leave behind DNA traces, misshapen corpses, fingerprints, witnesses or images on videotape, now do they?" Bounding to one of the evidence carts, he held up the cylinder with Scully's second implant. "Yarns a mile high don't put computer chips in agent's backsides or wiretaps in nice old lady's houses, now do they?" He placed the vial on the railing to begin pacing. "Nor, as the People would have you believe, is Mister Saunders responsible for having planted all this on his own. Why, to do that, he'd have to be buzzin' hither and yon, burin' bodies in Ohio, typin' files in West Virginia, fillin' in warehouses right here in Pennsylvania. And, if he could do all that, we might as well ask him to deliver ever'body's presents on Christmas Eve, now mightn't we?" 

Stone carried the cylinder back to the evidence cart. "No, ladies and gentlemen, with all these files and folders, ah'd have to say my client is tellin' the truth." He held up one hand. "Now, ah won't pretend he's a choirboy, he isn't. He has killed men in cold blood. But not in this case. And this case, is all you are required to consider. In this case, he was fightin' for his life." He glanced over at the plasterer. "Are we to hold a man accountable for murder simply because he defended himself successfully when attacked? Are we? That's really the question before us today. Not whether or not he's telling the truth about the organization out there, we have evidence that he is." He pointed at the carts. "Mounds of evidence. The question is not whether he was attacked, he was. We played you the tape showing two agents-" He held up his hand, palm toward the jury. "-otherwise fine men, firing repeatedly and ruthlessly at a wall, behind which cowered an unarmed man." He hooked his thumbs in his vest again. "Now, ah don't know about you, ladies and gentlemen, but if ah knew somebody wanted to blow me clear to the stars, and there was someone ah didn't know shootin' at me, the last thing I would assume was that they had my best interests at heart. If that's how you see it, then you must vote to find my client not guilty. Thank you." He ambled to his seat.

Anderson nodded to the prosecutor. "Your rebuttal, Mister Pollack." 

The flaccid man rose, eying Saunders as he crossed the open space. "My rebuttal remains the facts, members of the jury. Mister Saunders is a known murderer with a history of mental problems. He's killed for no reason at all. In this case, the defense has cooked up a story of conspiracy and aliens so fantastic it defies belief. If that story remains a question in your mind, than so must his. If you think he believed this fairy tale and killed because he *thought* he was under attack, then we're dealing with someone criminally insane, not a responsible citizen we want on the streets, regardless of his college grade point average. Either way, the defendant is guilty of cold-blooded murder, and you should vote to convict. Thank you."

As Pollack returned to his seat, Anderson opened one of the folders on the table. "Members of the jury, you may now begin your deliberations..."

\--o-0-o--

Allegheny View Motel  
Friday, 8:17 pm

Feeling relaxed after another swim and as lengthy a soak as she could take in the narrow bathtub installed in her room, Scully treated herself to a long slow yawn. She had curled up in one of the lounge chairs in her partner's quarters, awaiting his return from his run. When the bolt rattled in the latch, she looked up from the translation of Thucydides that was her current study in escapism. 

After the noise, she heard her partner muttering under his breath. 

Smiling, she slid to her feet to pull away the door. "They don't work so well when they're wet." 

He waved the offending plastic helplessly. "So I'd noticed." As he pushed back the hood of his gore-tex jacket, he eyed her quizzically. "Not that I'm complaining, Doctor, but why are you here and not across the hall?" 

She settled back into the cushions. "My shower drain clogged." 

A slow grin spread over his features. "Elvis?" 

She nodded. The proprietor's son, who doubled as the motel's handyman, had regaled her twice in the first week on the virtues of "The King," hoping she would comment on the, to him, obvious similarities in his physique. 

Mulder smirked as the phrase, 'Love me tender, love me sweet,' amplified by the tile surround, floated from across the hall. "I should warn him of the fate that befalls all your suitors, Agent Scully." 

She tossed her head. "I'd like to see you do that, Agent Mulder." 

With a snort, he disappeared around the corner of the bathroom. 

Scully returned to her end notes, flipping pages from the text to the references. After the sounds of the shower ceased, a buzz emanated from the black phone on the nightstand. Crossing the room, she called out, "Okay for me to take this?" 

Mulder, his dark hair uncombed, his bathrobe loosely tied, stepped into the room. "Yeah, sure. But if it's Patsy Cline, hand it over." 

She lifted the hand piece to her ear. "If it's Patsy, I'm getting a tape recorder." She listened. "Hum. Okay. I'll tell him." She looked up. "It's the bailiff. The jury's reached a verdict on both counts." 

Mulder shook his head. "Jarred expected the deliberations to last at least until tomorrow. This isn't good." 

She replaced the receiver, then sprinted across the room. "Maybe the King is done in there." 

Mulder called after her, "Meet you out front?" 

She answered with a wave just before the door closed behind her.

\--o-0-o--

Federal Courthouse  
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania  
Friday, 9:11 pm

The jurors filed in slowly, several looking over at Saunders, several staring straight ahead. The back rows of the audience were empty, this announcement coming too quickly for the usual spectators to reassemble. 

Anderson waited until the twelve men and women were seated. "Have you reached a verdict?" 

Just as Stone had hoped, the white-haired retired history teacher rose. "We have, Your Honor." 

Anderson licked his lips. "Would you please pass the verdict to the bailiff?" 

The woman in blue took two slips of paper from her, handing them up to the judge. 

After reading the decision, Anderson looked over the jury. "Were these verdicts reached after due deliberation and consideration by all the assembled members present?" 

The forewoman held the rail. "They were, Your Honor."

The judge nodded. "And is that the consensus of every one of you?" 

"It is, Your Honor," the eleven chanted in response. 

Anderson swiveled to face Stone and Saunders. "Will the defendant please rise?" A pause, filled with scraping of chair legs and shuffling of feet. "Then hear the verdict of this court. In the first count of Murder in the Second Degree, what is your decision, Madame Foreman?" 

She looked at the bearded African-American. "We the members of the jury, find Tyrell Lewis Saunders not guilty of murder in the second degree." 

After slight outbursts of surprise, Anderson prompted again, "In the second count of Murder in the Second Degree, what is your decision, Madame Foreman?" 

"We, the members of the jury, find Tyrell Lewis Saunders not guilty of murder in the second degree." 

Anderson gaveled the courtroom into silence. "Then, Mister Saunders, you are free to go." 

A glimmer of relief shown from the dark face, then Saunders turned to shake Stone's hand. "Thank you." 

Beaming down at his client, Stone clapped him on the shoulder. "Glad to have this charade over." 

Saunders turned to Mulder and Scully. "Thank you." He extended his hand to each in turn. 

Mulder nodded. "We can get back to business." 

Scully grasped his fingers lightly, having learned, not to her surprise, that their former contact had a grip of iron. "At least the evidence is where it can't be refuted or covered up." 

Stone nodded. "And thousands of law school students will have to read it in their civil rights law classes." He turned to Mulder. "I didn't have the chance to tell you, mah friend, but I've accepted a faculty position at UNC School of Law." He broke into an even broader grin. "Seems those folks who have argued both sides of the aisle are rare as a ivory-billed woodpecker. The final offer came through this evening. None of this will get buried, not if I have any say over the matter." 

Now alone with the four, Pollack approached them, hand extended. "You argued a good case, Jarred. Congratulations." He nodded to Saunders, then faced the double doors in the rear. "Now who could this be?" 

Saunders gazed back over Scully's red hair. "Something tells me we may have celebrated prematurely." 

The uniformed figure approaching carried a narrow black folder and a no-nonsense attitude. Looking the group over quickly, he stood in front of the defense table. "Tyrell Lewis Saunders?" 

The bearded African-American eyed the Marshal's waist for a weapon. "Yes." Resignation weighed his voice down heavily. 

The balding officer extended the black folder. "I'm here to place you under arrest on the charge of two counts of First Degree Murder. You have the right to remain..." 

Mulder and Scully waited in stunned silence. 

Saunders held the papers out for Stone. 

After he took them, he unfolded them to scan the contents. Closing his eyes, he passed the packet to Scully.

As her eyes focused on the seal at the top of the form, she shook her head. The image on the top showed not a federal eagle, but a standing helmeted woman, one hand on a spear, one foot on a supine man. "Virginia state charges." Her shoulders slumped. "We get to do this all over again." 

A predatory gleam flashed from Pollack's eyes, then faded, as he realized that although the pursuit would continue, his part was over.

Stone walked alongside his client, shortening his stride, as he had learned early in his teen-aged years, to accommodate the two men with him as they left.

\--o-0-o--

End - Zurvan - Chapter V - White and Black


	6. Many Partings

\-----o------------------------------------o-----

Chapter VI - Many Partings

\-----o------------------------------------o-----

Now, lords, for France; the enterprise whereof   
Shall be to you, as us, like glorious.   
We doubt not of a fair and lucky war,   
Since God so graciously hath brought to light   
This dangerous treason lurking in our way   
To hinder our beginnings. We doubt not now   
But every rub is smoothed on our way.   
Then forth, dear countrymen: let us deliver   
Our puissance into the hand of God,   
Putting it straight in expedition.   
Cheerily to sea; the signs of war advance:   
No king of England, if not king of France.

The Life of King Henry V

\-----o------------------------------------o-----

Apartment 5   
Alexandria, Virginia   
Monday, December 22, 1997   
9:21 pm

Scully placed the twenty in the cab driver's outstretched hand. 

"Thanks, Ma'am." 

"Merry Christmas."

The broad-faced Pakistani flashed his teeth as he shifted the battered Ford into drive. 

Scully nodded while he pulled away, then hoisted her duffel strap onto her shoulder. She gazed up at the flat brick building she called home, remembering the heat of Indian Summer shimmering off the slate roof when she departed. Now, the chill air and bare trees portended the coming season, leaving her pensive, slightly gloomy. _When I was sent off, things were clicking along so well._ She exchanged quick hello's with her neighbor as she entered the front door. 

Checking her mailbox, she found it empty, then frowned. _Mom's still in the Mediterranean, so who?_ She nodded. _Mulder._ Her obsessive partner was repeating his behavior from the three months of her abduction, no doubt. He was watching out for her apartment as carefully as he could not watch out for her. 

Crossing the hallway, she inserted the key in her lock. As the tumblers settled, she waited. _He's not there, or he would have been on his feet, pulling the door open with some dry quip._ She let the barrier swing away, giving her time to lift her bag again. 

_Home._ The scents of her own private space wafted out to her: a faint aroma of spice from the potpourri on the table, safe now that her Pomeranian wasn't here to root though it, the tang of rosemary from the plant she had started on her windowsill, the slight mustiness of a place still closed-up. 

Stepping into her living room, Scully glanced at the light switch, but shrugged. _Why bother? I've staggered around my own apartment in the dark often enough._ She carried her duffel into the bedroom, thinking of opening a few windows to air the quarters out. But, when she stretched out her hand, she felt coolness on her fingers, so she knew the tiny square panes were already raised. _Mulder again._ It was unlike him to leave her space open unless he was there. 

Returning to her front room, she checked her sofa, then lifted one corner of her mouth. Her dark-haired partner was there, stretched out face-down on her white and green striped cushions, the long feet poking out past a padded arm, a grey-stained rag in a heap under the strangely-still fingers that hung over the opposite side of the couch his cheek pressed against. Scully settled on her painted coffee table, one hand poised over his back, calling him softly. _Don't frighten him._ Even though he had kicked off his running shoes, exposing gym socks that matched her dust rag, she knew his SIG was probably clipped on the waistband of his black jeans. 

"Mulder?" She whispered his name again, waiting while he shifted and tensed. Scully dropped her hand to his shoulder, rubbing the knobby cotton of his black polo shirt. "Mulder, it's me." 

He raised himself up on his elbows, blinking at her through the darkness. "Scully?" In the light from the street lamp, he could just make out the hair framing her pale face. "You're back?" He shifted on the cushions so he was upright, freeing both hands to rub his stubbly cheeks. 

Scully moved onto the couch, turning so she could watch him as they spoke. "The preliminaries for the State trial are over, Mulder. Skinner's probably home by now." 

He reached behind him to turn on one of her brass table lamps. "What happened?" They blinked at the light. "Yesterday, you said Stone wanted to keep you there to review that faked evidence?" He twisted on the bolsters, groggily focusing on her eyes. 

Scully leaned back, breathing in the clean cotton smell of her own white and green striped cushions, so different from the sweat and old cigarettes of the acrylic overstuffed chair in her room at the safe house. "We decided I could do that better back here than in isolation in Saltville." 

He scratched his chin. "Oh? What do we have here that you don't have down there?" Leaning forward, he rested both elbows on his knees. "Is it too sensitive to talk about over the phone?" 

Scully shook her head. "If you must know, the case will be argued here in Alexandria, so Stone will be up in a day or so." 

Mulder chewed his lower lip for a moment. "Why Alexandria? Isn't there a courthouse down near Saltville?" 

After freeing herself from her pumps, the auburn-haired woman tucked her feet up beside her. "Stone argued, successfully, I might add, that Saunders wouldn't have a fair trial down there. Again." The muscles in her left cheek rippled. _You’ll like what comes next, partner._

Mulder snorted. "The race thing? Saunders must have hated that." 

Scully shifted a little closer to him. "Actually, no. Very, very little happens in Saltville." She lifted one corner of her mouth at his nod of agreement. "To have a double murder in a safe-house most of the residents didn't know existed, well, you should have *heard* some of the wild stories the local paper was publishing." She raised one hand to cover a tired yawn. "According to one account, Saunders was a drug-lord from Zimbabwe, and this double murder was an assassination attempt by a rival." 

Grinning, he propped his head up on his fist, the motion tipping his face over hers. "Enter Rumour, painted full of tongues." 

She pointed a finger at him. "You have the picture. Stone put two reporters on the stand, both of whom had been to the Pittsburgh trial."

Mulder moved one of the wine-colored throw pillows to behind his back. "Oh, if they passed some of your testimony along, well, I can imagine." 

Her green-blue eyes danced. "No, you can't. Some of the townsfolk were wearing '100% human' slogans in the courtroom." Digging in her briefcase, she retrieved a square red button with black letters. "Here, one for you." 

Smirking, he pinned it to his collar. "So, when does the trial begin down the street?" He pulled out the throw pillow, propped it against the arm of the sofa, then shifted toward her. 

She settled lightly against his side, then reached across his lap for the burgundy bolster to hug it tightly. "Stone will let us know. How are things here?" She frowned at the slight shudder that ran through him at her question. "Mulder?" She watched his long fingers brush across the back of her hand, curled around the bolster. _Something's wrong._

He leaned into her. "Everything's fine, Scully. The Gunmen have been busily entering the trial transcripts into their data base. They've found some very, very small watchdog organizations like themselves in Eastern Europe, so they're running that faked data past them. But Byers has to be careful." 

Tipping her head back to meet his gaze, she nodded. "He doesn't want to compromise Vicky's position or her career." 

Mulder crossed his arms. "Exactly." He stared down at her carpet, his next words barely voiced. "I'm glad you're back, Scully."

Leaning toward him, she reached over to touch his hand. "I was tired of being on the road. I'm having some evidence shipped directly to the Gunmen's so they can start looking at it. We should run by there before it arrives so they won't think it's a mail bomb." 

He snorted. "You weren't there when Vicky sent Byers a suit from Austria one time. She thought she was being helpful by sending express to their office, but Frohike shoved it in their freezer - "

She arched one eyebrow. "That refrigerator-sized beast they keep in the basement?" 

He nodded. "Yeah. They wouldn't open it until they'd read up on bomb deactivation techniques." He held his hands over his head. "Frohike had this huge helmet on, and he lifted the jacket out with a long pair of tongs. Sometime I'll show you the photo I took of him-" He extended his arms out in front of him, grasping an imaginary tool. "-pointing a fire extinguisher at this green suit before he realized what it was." 

Scully covered her grin with her fingers. "I did miss all the fun with you guys back then." 

He shifted closer to her, touching her shoulder in gratitude. _But not anymore, Scully._

She studied the floor under the coffee table for a moment. "I'm sorry it took so long for us to learn to really trust each other. It's so different that we do now." She favored him with one of her too-rare full smiles. "Better."

Mulder dropped his arm to tug his partner's elbow. "Why didn't you call? I would have met you at the airport." The hazel settled into an anxious sadness. 

Scully shook her head. "I wanted to surprise you, so I was planning on showing up at your door, pizza in hand." She prodded the dust rag with her foot before slipping back into her shoes. "But you beat me to it, Mulder. Thanks." She tossed her hair, lifting both eyebrows as she moved closer to him. 

He shifted away, chewing his lip, his chin down, as if he hadn't wanted to be caught here. "Ah, you've done it for me." 

She hooked her fingers over his arm. _I know something's wrong._ "So? Thanks anyway." She couldn't tell whether this was his usual dis-ease at praise, or whether there was something new eating at her friend. 

Suddenly he closed the distance between them, hugging her fiercely. "Scully." He buried his face in her neck, rubbing her spine as he clutched her. "It doesn't matter." 

She shifted her shoulders to fit more comfortably in his arms as he rocked back and forth. _Please don't keep what's bothering you locked inside, Mulder._ Finding she was tracing circles on his back, she schooled herself to wait. _He'll tell me when he's ready._

He lifted his face out of her hair. "Are you okay?" 

She nodded against his chest. "For some reason, when I sleep eight hours a night because I'm not getting calls after dark, and sit in heated courtrooms all day, rather than crawl across ice fields, I stay okay." 

After a brief snort, he released her, letting her settle at the far end of the couch. "Good." 

She could tell the anxiety was still nipping at him. "But, I'm bored, Mulder." He sent her a lop-sided grin. "I've missed not having you and Nichols to argue with. Did Rosen manage to hold her own while I was gone?" 

He stared at his clenched fists. "Scully, there's..." He bit his lip. 

She moved close to him, grasping his wrist. "I have weeks of Tuesday-Thursday lunches to catch up on." She bent forward to catch his eye.

He glanced at her quickly before standing. "I..." He crossed his arms, pacing by the windows. "I just returned from a visit with Matheson." 

Scully rose, walking around the coffee table to stop him. "That's good, right? He hasn't spoken with you since Chiapas." She could see his eyes glistening, so she held his elbow. "Tell me, Mulder." 

He shrugged, retreating within himself. 

"What, Mulder?" 

He stiffened. "Scully, I lost the section." He cringed, blinking fearfully at her. 

Scully locked her hands around both wrists. "No, you didn't. Something's happened that we aren't aware of." She tugged him back to the couch, pulling him down beside her. "We've gotten too close again, haven't we? We let ourselves get all wrapped up in these court cases and we missed something, didn't we?" 

He narrowed his eyes at her. "Yeah. Maybe we have. Maybe that's it. Maybe that's all it is." 

She nodded. "Tell me what he said. It might have been one of the shape-shifters. Did you check?" 

Mulder ran his hand through his hair. "Yeah, I tested him. He was playing one of the Brandenberg concerti when I arrived, just like he was before he sent me down to Aricebo. I misidentified it, and he corrected me, just like he did then." He settled against the corner, one long arm splayed along the back of the sofa, his left ankle tucked up under his hip. "He even made a joke about how my education hasn't seemed to have improved." 

At the other corner of the sofa, Scully twisted out of her pumps again, before hugging her thighs to her chest while resting her chin on her knees. "Tell me what he said exactly." 

Mulder shrugged. "He said we had accomplished all that we could be expected to achieve, and that the mission of the X-Files needed to be redirected. He warned me that the funding for the group, after all the negative publicity, would be cut in half. He suggested that Nichols take the ASAC position in San Diego that had just opened up. He hinted that Rosen should get on with her academic career. He even mentioned creating a position of Senior Pathologist down at Quantico for you." He slid across the cushions to her. "Why? Just because of this business with X?" 

Scully's shoulders drooped. "I couldn't begin to guess, Mulder. After the initial burst of publicity relating to the trial of a prominent black lawyer for murder, the press has left the proceedings alone. You know the actual details are too convoluted and arcane to be condensed to a fifteen second sound bite." She cocked her head. "You also know no reputable newspaper will run a story about-" She made quote marks in the air with her fingers. "-little green men among us until they check our evidence out thoroughly."

Mulder grunted his agreement.

Setting her feet on the floor, she leaned close to him. "Maybe when Director Skinner returns, he'll pass on a few more of the details. Matheson's needed to keep some distance between himself and us, probably for all our safeties." 

Shifting over until he was practically sitting under her chin, Mulder crossed his arms. "He's also left us high and dry before, too, Scully." 

She rested one hand on his neck. "So, tell me more. When you've spoken with him in the past, he's always conveyed one message that he expected to be overheard, another that was only for you. Did he slip you any notes?" 

Mulder shook his head. "But he'll sometimes send a message to my apartment." 

The auburn-haired agent rose. "Then, what are we waiting for?"

Mulder bent over her shoulder once they stood outside her apartment door, locking it. "You sure about that well-rested part, Scully?" 

Turning to push on his side, she arched an eyebrow. "Of course, Mulder, what other welcome home did you think I had been expecting?"

\--o-0-o--

Apartment 42  
Arlington, Virginia  
Monday, 9:57 pm

Mulder slid his mail key into the tiny square door. "Bills and catalogs, but I might as well add them to the piles inside." 

When a single sheet, folded in thirds, slipped to the flagstones, Scully bent to retrieve it. "What is this, another condo association meeting you'll be avoiding?" 

They peered at the words on the page: 10:25 V M

Mulder paused only long enough to dump the stack of envelopes in the trash before each zipped their coats, then headed for the door. 

Scully tossed her head. "Hope there wasn't a power bill in there." 

Smirking, he held the thick outer door for her. "The guys can always fix it for me if there is."

\--o-0-o--

Vietnam Memorial  
Washington, DC  
Monday, 10:22 pm

The agents approached the black marble slab silently. Their distinguished-looking grey-haired contact waited at the deepest point of the memorial, still in the light blue suit he had been wearing when he had met with Mulder earlier. 

Senator Matheson nodded to the auburn-haired pathologist. "Glad to see your flight ended safely, Doctor Scully." 

"Thank you, Sir." She held herself rigid, waiting. 

The older man turned to Mulder. "Part of what I told you earlier is correct, Agent Mulder. I am cutting the funding of the X-Files section, but not for any failures on your part." He leaned closer to them. "Since you told me that one of my staffers is high up in the Organization, I'm attempting to play his ego against the others. This dissolution was his suggestion, and it's something of a test to see how easily I can be manipulated. The ASAC position is genuine, as is a special endowed faculty position at Scripps Oceanographic Institute." 

Mulder nodded. "Nichols and Rosen move out there, but it's a cover." 

Scully crossed her arms. "What about Quantico?" 

Mulder cocked an eyebrow at her. 

"I have no more intention of separating you and Agent Mulder than I have of keeping Mister Lindhauer a moment after he's ceased to be useful, Agent Scully." The Senator’s gaze was redirected to the tall man’s darkening face. "I think it's been traumatic enough." 

Scully eyed her partner. _When this is over, we talk, Mulder._ "Oh?" 

Mulder waved his hand, putting her absence behind him. "There's a fourth leader, we know that. We just can't finger him." 

Matheson nodded. "Indeed. But the position at Quantico is real enough." He stared up at the tall agent. "As is a supervisory role in Behavioral Sciences for you, Agent Mulder." 

Holding out both hands, the dark-haired man began backing away. "No, not profiling. I can't do that again." He pointed to his partner. "At least not without her." 

Scully crossed her arms. "Don't you see, Mulder, there's no scuttling back to the basement for us, not anymore." She glanced over her shoulder at the Senator, who was nodding. "These jobs are just as much of a cover as Rosen's and Nichols's."

The dark-haired agent froze. 

Matheson approached him. "Exactly. Reassigning you is just what the Organization wants me to do. But, neither of you will be in charge of other agents. You'll be free to investigate cases without restrictions or limits." 

Scully stepped up to the Senator. "What about Director Skinner? How much of this does he know?" 

Matheson shook his head. "You'll find out." He held up both hands. "I can't reveal too much too soon." 

Mulder stood by his partner. "Okay. I see." They waited while the Senator slipped into the shadows. He rested his arm on Scully's shoulder. "So, Doctor, dinner?" 

She tossed her head. "I thought you'd never ask."

\--o-0-o--

Office of Assistant Director Walter Skinner  
Tuesday, December 23, 1997  
8:02 am

"Come in, both of you." The bald director held the door, waiting until the partners had taken their customary seats. He stood in the opening. "Gloria?" 

The grey-haired woman smiled. "Hold all calls?" 

Her answer was a curt nod. After closing them off from the outside, Skinner settled behind his desk, looking the dark-haired agent over carefully. 

Uncomfortable with the scrutiny, Mulder leaned forward. "Good to have you back, Sir." 

Pushing a folder across the table at them, he nodded his thanks. 

Scully flipped the cover, then passed the sheet to her partner. 

Mulder glanced at the former Marine, who had taken his glasses off to fiddle with the frame. The page was blank, save for a short sequence of digits on it: 1214. Mulder sighed. "So, what assignments do you have for us, Sir?"

Skinner raised an eyebrow. "Just a very unpleasant one." The Assistant Director rose to face out the window, away from his agents. _They know this, but we have to go through the motions._ "I've just received the modifications to the FY 98 Justice Department budget. I regret to have to inform you that the funding for your section has been cut in half." Hands behind his back, he moved from behind his desk to sit at one of his conference table chairs. "Now, this doesn't reflect..." 

Mulder was on his feet, playing the part as if it had been scripted. "Sir! I demand to know the reasons why! The Section's solve rate has improved over the high percentage Agent Scully and I had already attained by ourselves." He crossed his arms. 

Scully stood halfway between the two men. "Is this irrevocable, Sir? The Bureau always retains discretionary funds. Can we appeal to Director Freeh for redress?" 

Skinner sighed. "Director Freeh has his hands full with the Flight 800 and James Earl Ray investigations. The exposure of the Bureau's witness protection network and the murders of veteran agents have brought the wrong kind of publicity to the X-Files. Feel fortunate that you, Agent Scully aren't back at Quantico, teaching like Agent Nichols will be." He raised both eyebrows. 

Mulder glanced at his equally confused partner before frowning at his superior. "Quantico? What about Agent Rosen?" 

Skinner rose, repositioning the chair exactly in its depressions in the carpet before responding, "Agent Rosen remains a problem. It's not like the Bureau needs to spend much time studying the stars." His eyes flicked toward the thin folder resting by his nameplate, then he stepped up to the dark-haired agent. "Oh, and since you moved not so very long ago, this won't be a problem. You, Gloria, and I have all been assigned to the new Washington field office."

Scully clenched her hands in her lap. "Sir, what about Cynthia?" 

Skinner spoke through a motionless jaw. "Cynthia will join us shortly. Gloria has informed me that she would like to retire permanently." 

Mulder ran one hand down his face. "But in the meantime?" He began bouncing around the office. "She's a vital part of our operation, Sir." He knew better than to speak, in this room, the real reason she had to be kept close.

Skinner shook his head. "Welcome to your baptism by fire, Agent Mulder. Being a supervisor means more than recommending your people for promotions." Shrugging, he crossed over to the door. 

Taking their cue, the partners stepped out.

\--o-0-o--

Elevator  
J. Edgar Hoover Building  
Tuesday, 8:33 am

Mulder, propped against the back wall, rubbed his face. "Jeez, that was a surprise." He looked down at his partner, who was standing at his elbow. "What do you think happened?" Since they had no idea how much of the building was under covert surveillance, he was choosing his words carefully, as he knew would she, so she nodded. 

Scully tucked a few strands of auburn hair behind her ear. "Probably something behind the scenes, no doubt." As the elevator bobbed to a halt, the pair faced the door. 

His arms laden with files, Arthur Pendrell staggered through the doors, then broke into a bright grin when he caught sight of the waiting occupants. "Agent Scully! You're back! Tell me what happened." 

Scully lifted one corner of her mouth, then updated the red-haired man on the trials. She concluded simply, "So, Arthur, since the State testimony will begin after Christmas in Alexandria, I'll have at least have some time to catch up on the paperwork I'm *sure* Agent Mulder has left unfinished." She pointed her chin at her partner, poised to issue a return jibe. 

Holding down the door open button, Mulder grinned while waiting for the others to exit. _This should throw off anyone listening._ "So, what brings you to the second floor, Pendrell?" 

The younger man's face reddened momentarily. "Um. Er, I wanted to drop these life histories off for Agent Scully to examine, when she returned home, of course." He was walking as close to the red-haired woman's elbow on her right as Mulder was on her left. "We've run some partial DNA cross-checks, and think we've come up with some candidates for the women in the warehouse." 

Taking some of the stack from him, Scully nodded. "Good. Have you had a chance to look for similarities yet?" 

Pendrell blinked. "In the DNA, or in their lives?" 

As Mulder held the door, she shrugged. "Either." 

Cynthia looked up from her keyboard. "Agent Scully! Welcome back!" 

Scully walked around the secretary's desk to pat her shoulder. "Has my partner been working you too hard?" She sent him a teasing glance. 

Cynthia giggled. "No. I've been acing my Calculus tests at night school, though."

Scully favored the brunette with a genuine smile. "Good. I'm glad to hear that you've kept Rosen busy." She rejoined Pendrell and Mulder. "If you don't mind, we need to go sweep sunflower seeds off the conference table and do some real work." 

Mulder opened the door to his office, then jerked his head toward the coffee-pot. "I'll get you tanked up, Doctor." 

Scully smiled again. "Thanks, Mulder. Stone makes wonderful strong tea, but lousy coffee. I survived through most of the review sessions on trips to the bathroom." 

Pendrell cleared his throat. He had been quietly laying the DNA traces over the stacks of folders on Mulder's table, but now he needed the agents' full concentration. "Agent Scully?" He edged away from Mulder, but checked for his attentiveness with a quick glance. 

The auburn-haired pathologist focused on the Mylar sheet closest to the technician. "These aren't normal, are they?" Her finger rested on three narrow lines, a single thick line above them. 

Pendrell blinked. "No, they aren't, Agent Scully. How did you know?" 

Mulder smirked. "That's what was changed on Saunders' records?" 

She nodded. 

Pendrell gaped at Mulder. "How do you know?" 

Shrugging, Mulder rested his hand on the red-haired man's shoulder. "Someone's tried to palm off an altered DNA record on us just recently." 

Scully smiled slightly at the lab-coated agent before she continued smoothly, "It was an obvious fake, introduced with great fan-fare at the trial in Pittsburgh." 

Pendrell was playing with his retractable pointer, pulling the aluminum tube to its full extension, then slamming it closed on the palm of his left hand. "Well, do you have it? They've tampered with one of the areas of the human genome that may be related to the development of Alzheimer's." 

Mulder, his hands on his hips, looked down at Scully. "Yeah, it's locked away." After he rotated the heavy dial on the file cabinet-sized grey safe, the dark-haired agent handed one wide envelope to Pendrell. 

Following a moment's study, the technician focused on Scully. "Why did they want to make you think he hadn't inherited this?" Lifting one sheet off the table, he overlaid the fraudulent data with his, then held them both over his head so the florescent lights could shine through the stack. "He really did." 

Scully's green-blue eyes flicked from side to side as she compared the lines growing up the page, her chin nearly on Pendrell's shoulder. Using her minimus finger, she pointed out three other discrepancies. "Do you have any idea what do those mean?" 

Mulder watched Pendrell chew his lower lip. "Has that part of the genome been charted yet?" 

At the question, the tech lowered the sheets to hand them to the auburn-haired pathologist. "I don't know, but I'll check. If I could get on your computer, Agent Scully?" 

She nodded, waiting until the red-haired man was engrossed in his search to lean into Mulder's chest. "When are we informing the others about those transfers?" 

Mulder shook his head. "Not today. I'm not telling Rosen and Nichols a thing until I have a straight story between Skinner and Matheson." He pointed at her desk. "We've finally built up the kind of team the X-Files have always cried out for, and I'm supposed to give it up without a peep?" He bent over, his dark eyes glittering with determination. "Nope. I have to have some real answers. They owe us, all of us." 

Scully swiveled away from him, raising her chin. "Good. Go get something out of Skinner while I check through data bases with Pendrell." 

Nodding, Mulder crossed to his desk to retrieve the transfer papers. "Don't let anyone know what's in these, Scully. I'll be back." He placed the folders in her outstretched hands.

\--o-0-o--

"I'll be back in about forty-five minutes, Gloria."

The grey-haired woman nodded as Walter Skinner closed his outer door behind him. 

"Sir!" Mulder, his cheeks flushed, strode toward his AD. 

Skinner shook his head. "Not now, Agent Mulder!" 

The dark-haired agent blocked the older man's path. "I *must* speak with you about these transfers *now*, Sir." 

Skinner grasped his arm, spinning him around so he could continue down the crowded hall. "Later, Agent Mulder." His intensity edged up a notch. "I have a meeting with the Attorney General in ten minutes. Given the events on the Hill, she's not very tolerant of late arrivals." 

A few of the agents and clerks eyed the two men as they passed. 

Mulder yanked his arm free. "I'm not giving up my agents, Sir, not without a better explanation than what you gave me!" 

Skinner leaned toward him, speaking through clenched teeth. "Outside, Mulder." 

The younger man followed reluctantly until they were standing beside the Navy memorial. "Sir!" 

Skinner shook his head, silencing him. "I share your concern, Agent Mulder. The last thing I want is for your group to suffer." 

Edgy, Mulder ran his hand through his hair. "But, Sir, what bothers me is that you and Senator Matheson have given us different stories as to where Rosen and Nichols will end up. With what's happened with Cynthia, we can't leave anything to chance." 

Skinner had been eying him. "Different? Matheson told you something other than what he told me?" He rubbed the bridge of his nose, the pads for his wire-rims resting on his fingers as he did so. "I'll try to arrange a time when the four of us can work this out in security." 

Mulder glanced over his shoulder when a taxi driver began shouting in Farsi at a stalled line of traffic. "Thank you, Sir. Watch out for a tall, blond aide named Lindhauer. He's one of them, so don't expect Matheson to tell you anything reliable when he's around." 

Skinner nodded, setting his pace to match that of the pedestrians around him as he turned away.

\--o-0-o--

Union Street Public House  
Alexandria, Virginia  
Tuesday, 7:21 pm

Richard Matheson smoothed the lapels of his Armani suit jacket, smiling at the attendant who had just draped the Harris tweed long-coat over his arm. "I'm looking for Hale, reserved for party of four?" 

The young man, equally elegant in his black suit, led him up the stairs. "They've selected a booth on the second floor, Sir. Right this way." 

The grey-haired man nodded to the two men and the woman who were already seated. Mulder was working over a nearly-frozen clump of butter with his knife, diligently pressing it into a slice of cornbread, but stopped when the Senator approached. Scully had been eying the golden mound with a look that was part disdain, part envy, but straightened when their new arrival slid into the booth across from her. Skinner merely nodded, taking a long pull from a tall glass mug of red-tinted amber ale. 

After a quick glance at his partner, Mulder set the food on his plate. "Glad you could make it on such short notice, Sir." 

Matheson shook his head. "Please, Agent Mulder. We needed to have this meeting." 

Scully rested both hands flat on her lap. "Why the different stories, Sir?" 

The distinguished-looking politician turned to her. "You're both aware that the old Cigarette-Smoking spy is still alive?" 

Without checking with each other, both nodded, but only Scully answered. "We met him, back in February, Sir." 

Matheson rested his crossed arms on the table, pulling their four heads into a circle. "With the reduction in the organization's funding, my friends on the Banking and Regulatory Affairs Committee have been reporting unusually large transactions coming from European institutions to American ones. Many of the accounts belong to front companies the old men used in the past." 

Mulder's brow crinkled. "Sir, while we'll investigate that, what does it have to do with these section transfers?" 

Matheson held up one muscled hand. "We know he had listening stations established throughout the Hoover Building, including Director Skinner's office. Whatever you hear in there, sorry, Walt, you have to ignore. If they can institute campaigns of misinformation, so can we." He shifted against the cushions as the waiter approached. 

The four turned their attentions to more gustatorial, yet mundane, matters, until the young man in the black suit padded away. 

Matheson leaned forward again. "That is why you are hearing two different stories, Agent Mulder. I needed all three of you to react as you did for the ears-" He waved at the waterfront. "-out there to overhear." 

Mulder's eyes were at their darkest. "Sir, I don't like being played for a patsy. After what we've done these past few months, I think the group of us working on the X-Files deserves better." 

The grey-haired Senator nodded. "You're correct, Agent Mulder, you do deserve better. After we finish exposing these secret governments, that's - " 

Scully was shaking her head. "I'm not sure that's a good idea." 

Stunned, Mulder faced her. "Scully, what did you just say? I can't believe after all you've done that you feel - " 

She reached for his arm, but pulled back at the near-visible waves of rage emanating from his face. "Mulder, listen to me. We know there are aliens on this planet. Now, while they have no immediate plans to wipe out the human race, they don't exactly intend to go away and leave us alone, now do they?" 

Mulder was on his feet, pacing a short line in front of the table. "Scully, after what they did to you, how could you - "

Catching the surprised glances from other diners at the younger man's outburst, Matheson grabbed his arm. "Sit down, Agent Mulder." He gritted his teeth. "Now!" 

Still glaring at his partner, Mulder collapsed with a grunt. 

Matheson released his wrist. "Agent Scully has a point, in fact, she's grasped *the* very reason I've been working with you over the years to expose these secret governments." His grey eyes met her green-blue ones for a long moment before he continued, "One thing being in the Senate gives me the opportunity to do, during all those long-winded filibusters, is think. The purpose behind the initial formation of these secret governments is a noble one: we need to be prepared for the arrival of sentient extraterrestrial life at some point in the next century, or perhaps the one after that." 

A disgusted grunt escaped the bald Director. "Listen to this. We sound like a group of lunatics in expensive suits." 

Suddenly refocused, Mulder leaned forward. "That's why you're separating the X-Files agents, isn't it? You want us to start up our own organization." 

Wagging a finger at the younger man, Matheson nodded. "But not a covert one. Secrecy is the enemy of democracy; it allows corruption and ambition time to plan and bring evil to fruition. The old groups had their beginnings in the horror of the Third Reich; this must begin in the light. You and Agent Scully have been carefully placing what you know in the public eye, all without my direct encouragement. In a few years, working with the media, we can bring the general population to the realization of what we know." 

Skinner sighed. "Rich, this is all very interesting, but if we make some grand pronouncement that 'aliens are among us,' we'll either be laughed off the front page or we'll start mass panics. Also, democracies are notoriously short-sighted. Look what happened to the SETI program. After three years of hearing nothing from the stars, the funding all disappeared." 

The Senator turned. "I know, Walt. That's why we must start off small, with the X-Files section. Also, we must erase this pre-millennial, anti-science, anti-development, inward-looking mentality that seems to have taken hold of the national outlook. That we have to do with education, but I have others working on that angle." He shifted, focusing on the dark-haired agent. "I'm sorry, Agent Mulder, I didn't want to reveal all this to you so soon, but at least you have an idea where I want you and the rest of the X-Files agents to end up." 

Scully had been quietly studying the wood behind the Senator's head. "But we need to be ready for anything, Sir." 

He smiled at her, using the wide grin of a well-heeled politician. "That we do, Agent Scully. We need to be able to understand the gifts of technology a benevolent species would bring *and* we need to be able to defend ourselves against an invasion with at-present superior weaponry. We also need the wisdom to know the difference. Your work has given you a little taste of how far we have yet to go." 

She crossed her arms. "But we can't do it by kidnapping helpless civilians off the streets so some secret group can perform hideous experiments on them." 

Matheson was nodding emphatically. "Which is why we must shut down the present organizations. All of them." 

Surprised at the depth of Mulder's involvement, Skinner stared. "What?" 

Mulder nodded. "There are European and Asian groups conducting similar tests. If we simply eliminate the American organization, they'll swoop right in and take charge." 

Matheson held up his hand. "One thing at a time. I've made contacts in the UN to help us there." He eyed the waiter, approaching with their meals. "But later, Agent Mulder, after you finish with this trial and," he concluded, his voice dropping to a whisper, "other matters of a more personal nature." 

Mulder opened his mouth to respond, but the black-suited man had arrived, so they chose other topics to occupy them while they ate.

\--o-0-o--

After Matheson and Skinner had offered their farewells, each protesting family obligations, Mulder turned to Scully. "I'm sorry." He studied the wine-colored leather cushion between them.

She arched one red brow. "For what?" 

He tugged at a loose thread in his sleeve. "Blowing my stack with you. You've been home less than twenty-four hours and off I go." 

She shook her head. "Oh, Mulder, if you keep apologizing every time you do that." She flapped her linen napkin at him. "Don't worry so. I'd have probably shot someone for saying what I did. I needed to frame my objection better. But at least we got something out of Matheson." 

When the waiter dropped the bill on the table, Mulder snorted helplessly. "And he got something out of us." After placing his credit card in the young man's hand, he rested his chin on one fist. "So how does it feel to be in on the ground floor of a brave new world?" 

She tucked her precisely-folded napkin under her plate. "Like someone dropped a six ton weight on my shoulders. When do you want to tell Rosen and Nichols about their new assignments?" 

He shrugged. "Tomorrow." After signing the receipt, he stood. "Let me walk you to your car, Scully." Bending over her, he sought to banish her somber mood. "If you don't cheer up, I'll drag you into that Christmas shop we passed on the way here." 

She tossed her head. "Murder by pancreatic failure. Always knew you would find a creative way to do me in, partner. I wonder how Mom is handling Christmas on Santorini?"

He touched her back as they descended the stairs. "At least we won't be on the streets this year." Plucking a toothpick from the tray as they exited, he glanced over at his partner. "Where's Cary now?" 

Worrying with the top button of her long coat, she tipped her head up. "Packing up her Mother's house, I think. The last Rosen told me, she'd be moving down here. It seems now that she's free of worry, she has great plans to travel." 

Chewing the fragile stick, Mulder smirked. "So a move to San Diego wouldn't be all that unappreciated." 

Scully wrapped her arms around her waist as a gust of wind whipped around the corner. "Probably not at all. Odd." 

Mulder bent over her. "Hum?" 

She tipped her head. "Us worrying about whether her spouse wants to move or not." She bit her lower lip. "I'll miss having her around." 

Mulder sobered. "No midnight basketball." 

She pulled out her keys as they approached her Honda. "Drop you by your car?" 

He rubbed his hands together. "Sure. Thanks."

\--o-0-o--

Basement X-Files Offices  
J. Edgar Hoover Building  
Wednesday, December 24, 1997  
9:23 am

When he heard chalk squeaking against the slate of the blackboard, Nichols pushed his reading glasses further down his nose. "What's on your mind, Ros?" 

Half-sitting on her desk, she looked over at him. "I'm still attempting to piece together what the shape-shifters could have been after. Look." She rapped the black surface with her knuckle. "Recycled paper, spent batteries, aluminum cans. What on earth are they planning on making with all that?" 

"Transparent aluminum?" Mulder hovered in the doorway. 

Nichols grinned. "Don't think so, Chief. What brings you down here?" 

The tall agent stepped back, ushering Scully in first. 

The auburn-haired pathologist nodded to both in turn before she stood by Rosen. "Could they be after the iron in the paper, rather than the carbon, as you originally thought?" 

Nichols leaned back in his steel-framed desk chair. "Perhaps. They were after high-quality paper, but only initially. Eventually they were even accepting newsprint." 

Mulder moved an oak chair from beside the door to his customary spot between the desks. "The real question is, how can they refine something like that in Africa?" 

Rosen nodded. "These elements, carbon, iron, aluminum, antimony, sulfur, don't combine well with each other except under extreme temperatures and pressures." 

Scully dropped into Rosen's chair. "Or, they may know some quirk of subatomic physics we don't yet that makes it all simple." 

Crossing his arms, Nichols began swiveling the leather-padded seat from side to side. "You mean something like cold fusion? I thought that was all a hoax?" 

Rosen shook her head. "Maybe it is, maybe it isn't. Remember that it was first proposed as a mechanism for explaining excess heat in the earth's interior." 

Propping his feet on Nichols' desk, Mulder snorted. "And you two like to say I'm nuts." 

Scully tipped her head back to meet his eyes. "Not say, partner." A slight ripple crossed her cheek. "Rosen's remembered the arguments properly, though. Even if a cold fusion event happens once in a few million chances, at the earth's core, there's still plenty of time and pressure to keep it hot." 

Nichols slid the half lenses off his face altogether. "But in the earth's core, there are hundreds of miles of rocks above the core to insulate it. We can't duplicate that at the surface." 

Shaking her head, Rosen raised one arm over her shoulder to extend her left index finger downwards to rest on the tip of the right one, aimed upwards. "Not on large scales, no. But small scale experiments are performed regularly in labs where pressures at a point are brought for short periods of time to those encountered at depth." She dropped her hands to her sides. "We know one of the shape-shifters was at Cornell. There is just such a machine there, and he had the time to explore and find it." 

One hand on his hip, the other on his chin, Mulder began pacing. "Yeah. We know the shape-shifters flew a similar vehicle to the one recorded in the D'Amato papers. We also know they wanted to leave earth. What if they've found the original vehicle and are attempting repairs?" 

Nichols nodded. "We know there are at least five of them: three thinkers, an engineer, and a pilot. That cylinder you saw photos of was fifty years older than what was blown up on the ice, but probably just as much younger than what the original colony arrived in." 

Rosen smacked her left fist against the palm of her right hand. "The clay!" 

Scully looked over. "The clay?" 

The brunette circled her partner's desk to stand by Mulder. "That clay the Kindred used to make pots, the stuff you saw them spreading over the dead guy, do you have a sample?" 

Mulder looked to his partner. "Do we?" 

Standing, she nodded. "Yes, I took a piece of the pottery as evidence. What do you think would be in it?" 

Rosen grasped the diminutive woman's shoulder. "Heavy metals, like uranium or lead, are often trapped in the interstitial spaces of feldspathic minerals." 

Nichols joined the tight group of three. "Hold on there, Ros. Slow down. Interstitial spaces? What are you talking about?" 

She bounded to the board, drawing up a diagram of repeated hexagonal shapes. "It's simple mineralogy, Nic. Clay compounds are usually broken-down feldpsar networks. Now the mineral itself is a tectosilicate, a tetrahedral networked form of silicon. Like diamond, it's strong in all dimensions, but because the network contains both silicon and aluminum oxide tetrahedra, the bonds can be forced open. Heavy metal ions being carried along in the groundwater often lodge in those spaces in the network." 

"No!" The shout from Mulder startled them all. "It's simpler than that. Simpler than pressure chambers or heavy metals. We handed them a way to grow all that when we found that Archaea-bacterium." 

Standing in front of him, Scully stretched up on tiptoe until she was practically in his face. "The networks we saw forming in the test chambers. Feed it and it grows. They see life as something to be used, but not abused. Letting the bacterium grow silicon networks to replace the carbon fiber ones they used to build their hulls would fit in with their philosophical world-view." 

He patted her shoulders, slightly harder than he intended in his excitement. "Exactly, exactly. One thing Africa has is plenty of rocks." 

Nichols stood by Rosen. "What?" 

The brunette shook her head. "Not rocks. The Sahara. More refined, dry silicon in an accessible form than we could ever hope to produce, with all that sand." 

Mulder covered his face with both hands. "Jeez, I'm going to miss this." 

Rosen and Nichols stared at him. "What?" 

The dark-haired agent spread his arms. "This. Throwing ideas around like this." He looked down to his partner for support. "We have some news we need to pass on to you two, but not here. We need someplace loud where we can't be overheard for lunch." 

Nichols grinned. "I've been dyin' to take you three there. Meet me at the Dart in ten minutes." 

Mulder nodded. "Okay. Keep thinking, guys. We'll have that sample of clay sent off for chemical analysis to see exactly what's unique in it."

\--o-0-o--

Capital City Brewing Company  
Shirlington, Virginia  
Wednesday, 11:47 am

Nichols spread his arms after the four of them had entered the glassed-in space. "Man, what a place! If it weren't for the Bureau, this is where I'd like to spend my time." He beamed at the two story copper mash tuns behind the bar. 

Mulder leaned over. "What, brewing or drinking?" 

Rosen smirked as the hostess approached. "Both, I'm sure."

Scully was staring at the menu card. "Do they have real food in one of these places, or just pretzels and beer?" She glanced at the inviting booths along the front. "It doesn't seem terribly loud." 

Nichols shrugged. "Wait till we sit down." The four settled around one of the small square tables, Nichols nodding as the server explained the specials, both solid and liquid. "I'll have the Barley Wine." He rubbed his hands together. "It is winter, after all." 

Rosen chuckled. "Why not. I'll try the hefe-weisen." 

Scully squinted until she assumed a pinched expression. "Mineral water." 

Mulder wiggled his thumb by the block of salads on the menu where she could see, then looked over at the server. "I'll have the root beer." 

Once the drinks and a plate of steaming soft pretzels materialized, Rosen leaned over the table. "What did you need to talk to us about?" The localized din around them faded into the background as the partners concentrated on Mulder. 

The dark-haired agent shrugged. "Scully and I had a long, interesting dinner with Senator Matheson last night." 

Rosen took a sip of the clear golden ale, then sighed. "We're being split up, aren't we?" 

Scully shook her head. "Yes and no. Matheson wants to move you two out to the West Coast so we can monitor Consortium activities there more easily." 

Mulder glanced over at her before he continued. "There's an ASAC position opening in the San Diego field office that has your name on it, Nichols." 

The older man's jaw dropped. "ASAC? If this is a dream, don't wake me up." He took a long pull at the rose-colored Barley Wine, foam decorating his mustache when he set the tall glass down. "ASAC?" 

Mulder nodded. "Yup. Congratulations." He turned to Rosen. "He's created a fully-funded position for you at Scripps." 

Rosen clapped Nichols on the shoulder. "You'll be close to Janie and Liz." 

He beamed back. "You can do some real research, Ros." 

Scully shook her head. "And investigations together whenever you have the chance. We'll give you more of the details as they come to us, but that's Matheson's plan. He has friends on all the right committees, so we expect these changes to come down through the Attorney General as legitimate job opportunities, at least for you, Nichols." 

Grinning, the older man faced his partner. "How do you think Cary will handle the news?" 

Rosen gripped her glass with both hands. "She'll be thrilled. She's hated the cold as long as I've known her. San Diego will be so much easier for both of us." She raised her eyes to meet her partner's. "If you know what I mean." 

Mulder tore a pretzel in two. "So, this business with the clay from Steveston..." 

Nichols looked to his partner. "Just this, we had been thinking about the possibilities of radiation from heavy metals in the clay, and the geologist over here thought..." 

The four leaned closer together, their conversation lost in the din created when a large group of office workers trailed past them.

\--o-0-o--

Rowhouse  
Capital Hill  
Wednesday, 2:37 pm

At the sound of a knock, Lindhauer glanced toward his foyer. "Who's there?" 

"'Andrew'! Open up!"

The lean blond man trotted to his entrance, pulling aside the door. "Oh, how come you're not on your way home to Texas?" 

McConnell slumped into an armchair. "Dad and I haven't been seeing eye to eye for a while." 

Lindhauer locked the door behind him. "Oh? You didn't tell him about the Organization, did you?" 

McConnell rubbed the bridge of his nose under his thick plastic frames. "No, of course not. But Dad doesn't understand about how long things take in the Senate. He thinks I'm not pushing Randall hard enough on his social agenda." 

Flopping onto the sofa, Lindhauer sprawled along its length. "Your Dad's social agenda. Running people's lives according to some ancient text." 

McConnell was on his feet. "Hey, don't knock other people's religions! What did *your* father teach you?" 

Crossing his arms, Lindhauer turned partially into the cushions. "I never knew my father." 

McConnell stood over him. "Hey, man, I'm sorry. Was he killed in a plane crash or something?" 

Lindhauer snorted. "I wish. No, I mean my Mom would never tell me who my Father was. Somebody she met overseas, she said. But, she was always away, running social events for the State Department. My Grandmother raised me while she was seeing the world." He glared up at the man standing over him. "So don't preach to me about social agendas. I wouldn't be here otherwise." 

McConnell leaned against the door. "Well, before I go, I should tell you our contingencies for the second trial are in place." 

Lindhauer swung his feet to the floor. "That's good. We thought moving the venue to the Court of that idiot Anderson would have been enough, but it wasn't. How did we know he would rediscover his love of Justice?" 

McConnell nodded. "We should never have allowed this to get out of hand."

The blond man rose. "You think we should make another attempt on Mulder and Scully? You don't think just splitting up the section will be sufficient?"

McConnell shrugged. "I don't know. I'm not sure of much anymore. See you tomorrow?" 

Lindhauer reached for the deadbolt lever. "Sure. I can darken a church door twice a year, right?"

McConnell grinned. "Three times. Dad still wants to officiate for 'Ace' and 'Charlie'." 

Lindhauer nodded. "I wondered if that was still on. You really had to buy the motherboard for her?" 

McConnell sighed. "Yeah." 

Lindhauer shook his head. "That's not good. Not good at all."

\--o-0-o--

Townhouse  
Reston, Virginia  
Wednesday, 6:23 pm

'Charlie' unlocked the front door. "Hey, I'm home!"

'Ace' poked her head out of the kitchen. "I'm back here." 

'Charlie' eyed her cautiously. _She isn't smiling._ "Lisa, is everything okay?" 

The brunette curls disappeared around the refrigerator, followed by a stifled sniffle. "No. It isn't. The cleaning crew didn't show up and your parents will be here tomorrow. I can't do all this by myself."

'Charlie' dropped his coat on the sofa. "That's okay. We have tonight. We can get the job..." He stopped as he entered the galley kitchen. A huge round burn in the center of the countertop was mocking any efforts to scrub it away. "How did that happen?" 

A fresh pair of tears rolled down the programmer's face. "I was trying to bake pies for your family and I set a pan of pumpkin filling down on there." She scrubbed her forehead with the back of her hand. "What do you think happened there?"

The portly man waved both hands. "Oh, that can happen to anyone, Lisa." 

She threw the sponge in the scummy water of the sink angrily. "But it happened to me! First the motherboard, now this! Six months ago, I was an agent with the FBI and the resident expert on computer hardware in the Bureau. Now, I'm becoming an idiot!" She stomped into their bedroom, then threw herself on the still-bare mattress. 

'Charlie' followed her, attempting to gather the weeping woman in his arms. "Lisa, honey, it's okay." 

She shook herself free of him. "No, it isn't." The tears had stopped. "You three depend on me for help running the organization and look what I've become. I'm no good to anyone." She ran out into the hall. 

By the time 'Charlie' arrived in their front room, she had pulled on her coat, then had stepped into the darkness. "Goodbye, 'Charlie'." 

He slumped to the floor. "Lisa? Where are you going?" 

A muffled sniffle. "I don't know. But don't follow me. I don't know if I'll be back." 

He tore off his glasses, then began to sob quietly.

\--o-0-o--

The black sedan rolled along the darkened streets, following the stumbling figure.

'Ace' stopped, waiting for the car to come to a rest as well.

The driver turned off the engine, then emerged from the shadowed interior. "Amanda? What are you doing out here?" 

She glared at the wrinkled face. "You! What are you, some kind of vulture, lurking, waiting to pick me up?" She kicked the steel door. "You might as well shoot me now. I'm utterly useless." 

The old man stepped around the car to her. "Amanda." He regarded her gently, if gravely. "There were many ways to keep you safe once your identity was known. It never had to come to this." 

She turned her back to him. "Oh? What would you have done?" 

There was the snick of a lighter. "You could have traveled. The banks in Singapore are always looking for good programmers, and it would have set you up to, shall we say, correct, certain difficulties the Organization has at present?" 

She shivered. "Oh? I'm a woman. How would that have worked?" 

The man with the Morleys opened the passenger door for her. "Climb in. We can talk about this somewhere you won't have to worry." 

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Your place?" 

A grimace. "Not at all. The Group maintained several safe residences. We can still set you up in one of them." 

"We?" 

Luther stepped out of the rear. "Yes, we. Come on. You must be cold." 

'Ace' glanced back in the direction of her townhouse once, then slid into the passenger seat, oblivious to the bulky figure that had just turned the corner.

\--o-0-o--

Alexandria Courthouse Complex  
Alexandria, Virginia  
Tuesday, January 20, 1998  
5:26 pm

Dana Scully was collecting her papers and notes when she felt a light tap on her shoulder. _At least the debate over the questions to put to the jury pool is finished._ Looking back, she was surprised to see Walter Skinner towering from the other side of the railing. Clasping her hands over her skirt, she turned to face him, carefully composing herself, almost by instinct. "Sir?" 

A ripple of impatience ran through the Assistant Director, but all that anyone passing by would have seen was a slight clench of the jaw. "Agent Scully, I need to speak with you alone." 

Mulder had joined them in the front of the courtroom, one eyebrow quirked upward, questioning. A slight wave of a porcelain hand was answered with a nod before he stepped away. 

Scully met her boss' clear gaze. "Here, Sir, or in one of the conference rooms?" 

Skinner pointed toward one of the dark doors on the right side of the chamber. "There." 

Once they were inside, Scully raised her gaze to his face. "Sir, have you found more evidence..." At a glimpse of his stern expression, she fell silent. 

Skinner bent over the auburn-haired pathologist. "Are you certain you want to send Mulder to Greece? This is the most cooperative he's been in a court case ever, according to some of his old buddies back at BS." 

Scully rested the leather briefcase on one of the oak chairs in the tiny space. "Sir, Agent Mulder's mother and stepfather may be very close to locating Samantha. As capable as both Max and Caroline seem to us to be, both are of advanced years. I know he would never forgive himself if something went wrong with that search." She clasped her hands in front of her again, focusing intently on them. 

Skinner sighed. "He can't be putting his personal problems above his professional obligations, Agent Scully." 

The green-blue eyes were directed upwards. "Who's to say what's personal anymore, Sir? Need I remind you that the disappearance of Samantha Ann Mulder is an official X-File?" 

Skinner crossed his arms. "Semantics, Agent Scully. What's the real reason you've been pushing for him to go to the Middle East?" 

Scully squared her shoulders, her years as a Captain's daughter requiring her to give a full answer. "The real reason, Sir?" She dropped her head, replying softly, her eyes pinched shut. "I would never forgive myself if something went wrong. If Agent Mulder missed this chance to have peace of mind, all because I selfishly kept him here, assisting on a case that I could just as easily handle on my own, I'm, well..." She squeezed the twin handles of the case until her knuckles went white. "I'm not sure I could remain his partner, knowing what I had done." When she felt a light brush on her shoulder, she looked up again.

Skinner's stern expression had softened to gentleness. "Don't you think that's a decision you shouldn't make alone?"

Scully lifted her briefcase off the chair. "That's why I'm taking him to dinner, Sir." Without waiting for his dismissal, she opened the door, nodding to the lanky man slumped in one of the nearby seats. "Bohsali, Mulder, in Arlington. I've made reservations." 

The dark-haired agent stood. "Oh? This is the place with the belly-dancer?" He bent over her shoulder. "Or is this where I find out how my strait-laced partner really makes a living?" He smirked. 

She bounced on her toes. "Of course." She bumped his arm with her elbow. "I even told them there was a double billing for this evening." She stood on tiptoe to reach his ear. "Once I described you, they made it a special ladies night." 

Mulder straightened, grinning broadly as he waved to their boss.

Skinner watched them go, Mulder's hand resting lightly on her back, Scully nodding bravely while throwing out some comment about 'agents who fly and never want to grow up.' The bald Director sighed. _Good luck, Agent Scully._

\--o-0-o--

Bohsali  
Arlington, Virginia  
Tuesday, 8:27 pm

Shifting on the low pillows, Mulder sipped the last of his thick coffee, which was richly spiced with cardamom and clove. His partner had been somber tonight, smiling only faintly at his jokes once they left the Courthouse. He reached across the table to touch her hand, hoping to claim her attention. "Okay, you've wined me and dined me, plied me with gyrating semi-naked women. If you soften me up anymore, you'll have to spoon me into your briefcase to carry me home. What's wrong?" 

Scully twisted, then smoothed her linen napkin one last time, but knowing no other way than to say it directly, met her partner's concerned hazel eyes. "Why are you here?" 

Mulder blinked. "What? Here in this restaurant?" His brow creased. "What do you mean?" 

Scully shifted on the cushions, pulling her legs up at right angles, pressing the knees and ankles together tightly. "I mean, why are you spending your days in Alexandria, Virginia, when you should be in Alexandria, Egypt?" 

Mulder blinked again, then attempted a jibe. "Because I know what happens to Cleopatra's lovers, and I have no intentions that it happen to me, Scully." 

She smoothed her skirt down. "You know what I mean, Mulder." 

He pushed the crockery to one side of the stub-legged table, then leaned across it. "I'm here because I have debts to pay, to Saunders, to Matheson, and to you." He tipped his head. "Is that what you want me to say? I have a job to do, and one thing I've learned from you is never to shirk my duties. Saunders is in this mess because of his work with me. You're having to cool your heels in courtroom every day because of me." He waved his arm, nearly striking the man at the next table. "I can't go running..." 

She shook her head. "Yes, you can." She reached across the table to touch his shoulder. "Yes, you should. You know that." 

Mulder threw his napkin on the table. "Scully! What are you saying? Do you want me to ditch you? Is that it?" 

She sighed. "I want you to go find your sister, Mulder. Sitting on those hard wooden seats all day gets you nowhere. What's really keeping you here?" 

He stared at the family across the aisle from them, who were laughing and singing along in Lebanese with the musicians.

Scully shifted to his side of the table, attempting to see the room through his eyes. The diplomat's family had been boisterous throughout their meal, joking and toasting as they broke their Ramadan fast. She lifted one corner of her mouth when she realized that there were probably three generations represented, then turned to him. "Looks like they've had a better time than we did." 

Mulder glanced down at her. "Yeah. Everyone altogether like that." He fell silent again, watching the grey-haired grandfather bouncing a giggling baby on his knee. A boy and a girl, both just old enough for school, were teasing each other, the curly-haired boy pulling at his sister's long black ponytail. 

When the grandmother, tiny and round, leaned over to place a loving hand on the girl's head, the boy's soprano filled a sudden void in the room. "I hate you. I wish you were dead." Pouting, he wiggled away from her.

Scully checked her partner. 

Mulder was wide-eyed, gripping his knees painfully hard. "No, no, no, no. Don't say that. Never say that." He was whispering more to himself than anyone else as he folded into his own guilt. 

She tugged at one tightly coiled hand. "Mulder, he doesn't know what those words mean. Little boys just say things like that for effect. I know my brothers did."

He turned to her, his voice heavy with anxiety. "Scully, what if we really do find her? What do I do then?" 

She leaned gently into his side. "You start living." 

Thinking an old retort, his eyes flashed, then he crossed his arms over his stomach. "Start living?" 

She sighed. "Yes. Living a real life, rather than an obsessive Quest. Make friends, marry, have kids, have loud boisterous reunions in the Aegean with all your cousins from Vienna." She waved her hand at the other table. "Be happy, like they are." 

He rubbed his chin. "What if we can't make it work, Scully?" 

She arched both eyebrows. "You mean, what if your life doesn't become a Hallmark card?" She touched his wrist. "I hate to tell you, but no family is perfect. Every one of them has flaws."

He shrugged, straightening to bring more of his body in contact with hers. "Yeah. Things have been so good with my Mom. How do I know she'll still love me after we spend a few weeks together?" He faced her. "A vacation in Mexico or a wedding is one thing; there were enough distractions that we didn't need to focus on each other for more than a meal at a time. But what happens after she meets the real me?" 

Scully lifted one corner of her mouth. "Oh, you mean the Mulder I work with every day? You mean the guy who never files his paperwork on time? The one who calls me in the middle of the night because he's just figured out how Emperor Hirohito masterminded the Kennedy assassination as payback for losing the war?" 

He snorted. "Yeah. Him." 

She pushed at the fringe on the carpet by her feet. "Mulder, part of what we do as partners is use our differences as to propel our investigations forward. If I discouraged you from those JFK theory calls, you wouldn't phone when you had a new clue or suspicion about a case. Working cohesively like that is all part of the job." She rubbed his arm with her shoulder. "Being a mother is a job, too, part of which involves loving you all the time, whether they like you at any given moment or not." 

He clenched his fists. "Yeah, right. But most sons don't lose their little sisters while their parents are next-door."

She sighed. _This isn't working the way I had hoped._ "Mulder, do you know what you remind me of?" 

He shrugged. 

She shifted the crockery. "You've heard how birds, if they've flown into a hurricane, seek shelter in its eye?" 

He grunted. "So?" 

Scully patted his shoulder. "They track the center by somehow finding the area of lowest pressure. They stay there, roosting in the debris and wreckage, traveling hundreds of miles, just to keep out of the havoc they think is still raging. The winds keep dropping, but there's still this area of lowest pressure, so the birds just keep following it. Eventually the danger ceases completely, but they're still there." 

He straightened. "Then, they find they have a long, long journey to get back home." 

She sipped the last of her tea. "Or, they find a way to make a home where they are." After smoothing the linen tablecloth, she continued softly. "Mulder, you're one of those helpless birds, blown around by the turbulence of Sam's disappearance and what it did to your family." She leaned gently against his side. "You've found shelter in the X-Files, your eye of the storm, while all around you the winds raged. But, now the danger's past." 

He frowned. "No, the danger's never past. They're still out there, still in power." 

Scully scuffed at the rug. "With what we've already entered into evidence, the new group running the Consortium should be sharing your insomnia. There will always be another storm, Mulder. Take the time now while you can. Your Mom *wants* to get to know that wild man that you've become." One corner of her mouth quirked.

He shifted uncomfortably, finally settling with his face just inches from hers. "So, you think I should go see her, to try to make a new life for both of us." 

She grasped his arm. "She's made peace with what happened in the past. Besides, you have to make the effort. Sam needs a family to come home to." 

His shifting hazel eyes darkened into deep pools, then he nodded. "But Dad's gone. We can never be a whole family again." 

She relaxed her grip, but left her hand resting on his sleeve lightly. "No, you can't." 

He focused on her suddenly. "Then what's the point?"

"All you can do is the best you can. That's all anyone can do." She arched an auburn eyebrow. "Look, I'm trying to give you a push, here, just like you did for me when Charlie broke his leg." 

He shook his head. "Yeah, and see what good that did. Your brothers threw you out of the family." 

She straightened, speaking in clear, even tones. "Yes, look what good it did. I know what happened to me when I was taken; you've found clues about Sam. As for my brothers, well, that will sort itself out, in time." 

His eyes followed the family as they trailed up the stairs, the brother and sister poking each other and giggling as they walked away. "I hope so."

\--o-0-o--

National Airport  
Arlington, VA  
Wednesday, January 21, 1998  
2:27 pm

The partners had settled close to the door from the gate to the plane, Mulder feeling more relaxed that he usually did when he was preparing to leave on a case. He looked down at his partner. "You'll be okay, Scully?" 

She tipped her head. 

He shrugged. "Sorry. Bad habit." 

She patted his arm. "No, a good habit. One I've always appreciated, whether I've told you enough times or not." She was beginning to feel the first pangs of regret at his departure. "Make sure you talk to my Mom some, please?" 

He nodded. "This is all a bit much for her." 

Scully folded her hands in her lap. "Last night she was complaining about how she missed Annapolis and all the Christmas lights. She spent most of the phone call worried about her gardens, how they did with the drought." She glanced at the ticket agent, who was calling for early boarding. "You know." 

He leaned over to claim her attention. "Yeah. If a Scully complains, they have to be at death's door or the bombs are in the air." 

She rolled her eyes. 

He smirked, then sobered. "Don't *you* work too hard, okay? Get Pendrell to help you if you need it." He bit his lower lip before he continued. "This is a lot better send-off then jumping off a cruiser." 

She glanced at her hands before responding. "Yes. Isn't it?" _Now isn't the time to bring that up._

They sat in silence until the gate area was nearly empty, neither one wishing to conclude their farewells. 

Finally, Scully clapped her hands once, then stood. "Mulder." 

He rose slowly, reaching out to her, smiling when she settled against him. "I know. I know." He rubbed her back, prolonging the embrace. "Take care, okay, Scully?" 

Her head moved against his chest. "I'll be fine. We both will." 

He stepped away, shouldering his duffel bag, waving once after the ticket agent checked his boarding pass, then he was through the gate doors. 

Scully waited silently by window, watching until the plane had taxied from the walkway, then rolled out of sight. Once she was certain the flight was underway, she turned, making her way slowly to the exit. A group of military men in their workday greens were approaching, the red-haired officer on the left setting her feet running. "Bill!" 

The two captains in the center stopped to stare at Bill Scully, who nodded grudgingly to his sister when she came to a halt in front of him. The older one, his blond going grey, grinned. "And who might this lovely lady be, Scully?" 

While Scully glanced down at the carpet, suddenly self-conscious, Bill pulled himself up rigid. "This is my sister, Doctor Dana Scully. She's a pathologist assigned to FBI headquarters." 

After quick, professional handshakes, Scully struggled for small-talk. "I thought MAC flights landed at Andrews? Not National." 

The older captain recognized the undercurrents flowing between sister and brother, so sought an easy exit. "They do when Hilary decides to escort Chelsea back to college." He turned to Bill. "Remember, meeting at oh nine hundred tomorrow." 

After the two men stepped away, Bill Scully glared down at his sister. "So, off on another investigation?" He stalked over to an empty pair of seats. "You don't look like you're dressed for it." 

She settled beside him. "No, not today. We have a case in court right now." She studied her hands. 

Bill crossed his arms, letting his cheeks flush. "I didn't think you could put aliens on trial, Dana. Or is it a ghost?" 

Her professional mask descended over her face. "No, but it's extremely important, to all of us." 

Bill leaned forward. "So important you couldn't take time off to come visit your family?" 

She raised her eyes to his, focusing on irises slightly bluer than her own. "I didn't think I was welcome. Thank you for not returning my card."

Bill snorted. "It was the least I could do." Softening slightly, he turned to face her. "Did you have a good Christmas?" 

Setting her lips in a thin line, she nodded. 

His own full lips curved up slightly. "When I couldn't reach you that day, I was worried. We've always tried to get together for Christmas, Dad would have wanted it, you know. Where were you?" 

Scully grasped the black plastic armrest between them. "With friends." 

His eyes narrowed. "Oh? Friends?" 

Scully heaved a deep sigh. "We were at Rosen's wife's mother's home in Ithaca. She had wanted to serve one last Christmas dinner in the place before it was sold." Her eyes glowed happily at the memory of banter and jokes she couldn't begin to explain to an outsider. "It's fun to see how other people celebrate holidays once in a while. Then we took off a couple of days to help her pack. We kept having to stop to take turns shoveling snow." 

Bill tipped his head. "We?" 

Scully glanced at his bag. "Nichols, Mulder, and myself. Cynthia was back in Iowa with her family." She tucked her hair behind her ear, then played with the strand nervously. "It's amazing what generations of one family will accumulate when they stay in the same house." 

Bill leaned back. "Why was she selling it, then?"

Scully folded her hands in her lap. "Cary's mother had passed away, so - "

"Is that what it'll take, Dana?" 

She looked up. The irises were ice-blue crystals now. She opened and closed her mouth once, then returned to studying her fingers. 

"Is Mom going to have to die out there in the Mediterranean before you'll pay more attention to your own family than to the strangers you work with?" 

Scully shook her head. "No! Bill, Mulder's going out there right now! I was here to see him off. Mom's okay!" Her alto fell to a whisper. "Mom's fine." 

Bill shifted until he was nose to nose with her. "How would you know? She said you didn't call on Christmas. It was hard to hear her try not to cry, Dana. It was even harder to explain to little Bill why he wouldn't be at Grandma Scully's for the holidays. He barely remembers Dad, you know. Do you want him to lose both his Grandparents Scully? Is that what you want?" 

She held herself rigid. "No. That's why I wanted Mulder to go out there. To keep everybody safe." She clenched her fists. "We both need to make sure nothing happens to anyone in my family or his, ever again." 

Bill's jaw jutted. "I'm glad to hear that your family ranks somewhere above absolute last place in that head of yours. What happened, are the Secret Government Conspiracies less interesting now? Have you speared enough werewolves so you can settle down and think about the rest of your life? Are you ready to quit playing make-believe and treat real patients?" 

Her reply was a whispered growl, "How can you say that? Do you know where I've been? Do you know what's happened to me?" 

Bill crossed his arms. "Let me see if I have this right. Over the past year and a half, you've had a hysterectomy, broken, oh, six ribs, been attacked by coyotes, survived an earthquake, been shot at countless times. I should think that would be enough adventure for anybody. Hell, Dana, I'm in the military, I've been underwater for months, and none of that has happened to me." 

She closed her eyes momentarily against the onslaught of words. "Bill, that wasn't the point."

The red curls shook. "So, what *was* the point, Dana? To prove you're man enough for Dad? He's *dead*, in case you hadn't noticed. As is your sister and mine. As Charlie and John-John almost were. As Mom might be. Will that be enough for you? When we're all in our graves?" 

"Bill!" The force behind her shout surprised her, so she studied the carpet, working to stop her heart from pounding.

But her brother only leaned closer, then snarled. "Is that when you're planning on fucking that Jew of yours, Dana? After you two create this happy family none of us want? Why don't you just do it now and get it out of your systems?" 

Something deep inside Dana Scully snapped at his first question. Before she could check herself, her hand, the slender fingers curled tight, then flew across the narrow space between them to land on his jaw. Bill's head jerked slightly at the impact, then he caught her wrist as she pulled her arm away. Brother and sister glared at each other in silence, chests heaving. Finally, Bill released her to rub the darkening impression her fist had made. 

Scully rose quickly. "Bill, I'm sorry about all this. I honestly, genuinely regret all the difficulties we've had between us over the years. But leave Mulder out of our sibling disagreements. He and I are partners. We trust and respect each other." She took a step toward him, her toes jamming into the green canvas duffel. "What's more, for all the insanity of our work, we genuinely enjoy each other's company. One day, I hope to be able to say that to people about my own brother." She pushed her tension away with a wave of her arm. "Now, you've missed your ride to the BOQ. Tell me which one it is and I'd be more than happy to drive you there." 

Standing, Bill slung the strap over his shoulder. "Don't bother, little sister. I'll catch a cab. Have a nice life." 

Watching his disappear into the crowd, Scully whispered. "I'll keep you safe, Bill. All of you. I promise."

\--o-0-o--

Somewhere over the Mediterranean  
Delta Flight 3026  
Thursday, 9:47 pm

Fox Mulder nodded absently when the steward asked him to resume his seat. _It's First Class, buddy. I can do whatever I want._ Almost since the 747 leveled off after departing JFK, he had been prowling the short aisles, deep in thought. He complied, however, when the first wave of hot, dry air from Sicily collided with a more humid front off the bay to send the plane diving and climbing. _Good thing Scully isn't here._ He knew she would never say anything, just go white-faced and clutch the armrests, but they had flown together so many times that he knew exactly how she would react. 

_I wish she was here._ He glanced at the empty seat between him and the aisle, then sighed. If he was honest with himself, he would admit he was deeply afraid of what he would find when he arrived in Athens. _Oh, not Mrs. Scully, not Max, they seem to like me. But Mom. What do I do with Mom?_ He had to admit that relations between them had improved immeasurably. _At least we can hold a decent phone conversation with each other now. But for days? Weeks? What happens when I wake up screaming the first time? What will they all think of me then?_ He realized that in all the nights he had spent at his partner's mother's house, he had never awakened with the shakes, sweaty and afraid. _What if Mrs. Scully realizes how hard it is for Scully? Will she still like me then?_

He crossed his arms over his chest. _Calm down, G-man, you have two more hours left in the flight. The other passengers have been shooting daggers at you with their eyes for most of the passage._ He frowned as he studied the clouds passing beneath them.

\--o-0-o--

Eastern Airport  
Athens, Greece  
Thursday, January 22, 1998  
11:23 pm

The lean, white-haired man pushed himself to his feet as the door from the walk opened. Max had stationed himself away from the entrance to keep an eye on the hallway while permitting the boisterous Greek families to cluster close to it instead. He knew he could use his height to stare down the enclosed ramp to catch a glimpse of his dark-haired stepson. _Ah, there._

"Mulder!" He waved both hands over his head as the tall agent emerged, casting glances around the gate area. 

Mulder tipped his head back once to indicate that he saw. He found he was passing his bag over a cluster of children that were babbling enthusiastically in Albanian around their short, equally delighted father. 

Max took the duffel from Mulder. "Before we get you through Customs, we can put these bags away. It's not that far to the Renault." 

The younger man released an incredulous snort. "They won't want to inspect my luggage?" 

Max arched one white eyebrow. "After they see your credentials, no. Athens isn't as strict as most other airports." 

Mulder's eyes had dropped to his feet. "Where's Mom?" The voice was low and tenuous, the question asked so softly that it drew the bushy white eyebrows above Max's clear hazel eyes together.

As the tall elder watched, the younger man shrank, hunching his shoulders and back. Thinking again of how turtle-like this pose seemed, Max took his arm. "Resting at home." 

As if peering down a long tunnel, Mulder, his face haunted, looked over. "Oh." 

Max shook his head. _Do you always immediately assume you've been abandoned?_ "She wanted to be here, Mulder, but Margaret and I convinced her that she didn't need to be hobbling around the airport on crutches. She sends..." 

Mulder went rigid, not heeding the two women who shouted, then brushed past him. "What happened?" 

A rich baritone rumble emanated from his step-father's chest. "Oh, nothing terrible, so put your mind at rest." Grasping his stepson's shoulder, he leaned over it to speak gently, "If you must blame someone, blame me, I let her take my turn for the Pomeranian's walk." He chewed his mustache to keep from smirking as the younger man blinked, his fear falling into confusion as Max watched. 

"Walking the Red Menace? But I thought he, *it*, was in Maryland?" 

Max adjusted the duffel strap, then, his age-spotted hand on the muscled arm, guided Mulder to the wall. "No, no, not at all. Margaret didn't want to be without him, so I pulled a few strings for him to travel with us. It is very lax here, you must understand." As Max tugged them both out of the path of a honking passenger cart, he shook his stepson by the elbow. "Don't be such a fussbudget, Mulder, you're worse than Thea. Caroline turned her ankle climbing on some rocks with him, and one of the bones fractured. For a woman her age, it makes sense for her to take it a little easy." Mulder heard that rumble again. "But, not my Caroline. Adventurer to the end." 

His lips pinched into a roller coaster twist, Mulder was lagging behind him. "She's okay?" 

Since they were outside now, nearly to the battered white Renault, Max stopped, focusing sternly on the dark-haired man. "Of course she is. Do you think I would have left her side if she weren't?" He dug around in his pockets for his keys. "Now, we should get that paperwork taken care of." He slammed the trunk shut. "Mulder?" 

The younger man shrugged, then followed his stepfather back into the terminal. _This wasn't what I expected, at all._

\--o-0-o--

Apartment Building  
Omonia District  
Friday, January 23, 1998 12:27 am

Mulder peered at the white-washed three story structure they had pulled alongside. "This is it?" He turned to his step-father. 

Unhooking his seatbelt, Max nodded without looking up. "Exactly." Freed, he cocked his head at the younger man's curled lip. "Surprised?" 

Mulder slid out of the car. "Well, between this " He waved at the battered two-door. "-and that." He pointed his chin at the unadorned brown entrance. "Yeah." 

Having hoisted the duffel from the trunk, Max was rattling through a set of keys. "Oh, it's a way-station, nothing more. Omonia's not the best neighborhood, but the subway, train and buses are very close." He unlocked the steel security gate over the door, then slid a different key into the deadbolt set at shoulder height in the oak. "I don't spend much time in Athens, and if they'd designed the subway properly, I wouldn't have to worry about that rattletrap." He nodded back at the scraped side of the Alliance. 

When he heard a boombox crank on to blare loud rock music in German, Mulder stared at the windows for one of the second-floor apartments. "What do you mean, that it breaks down frequently?" 

Max waved Mulder through. "Oh, just that the city planners laid the Metro down along routes that only make sense if one knows one's Thucydides. They run down to Piraeus, along the paths of the long walls, and up the main road toward Boeotia, but to the airport?" He shrugged. "Not a chance." 

Mulder snorted. "Sounds like DC." 

Max took the first flight of steps, two at a time. "Hum." After the second, the spare man bent over, puffing slightly. 

Mulder chewed his lip. _Think, G-man, he's in his seventies!_ "Hey, Max, stop. You shouldn't be carrying my bag." He lifted the lumpen burden away, meeting no resistance, then rested his hand on the older man's shoulder. "How many more?" 

After Max held up four fingers, the dark-haired agent, his brow furrowed, stepped forward, leading the rest of the way, but checking back periodically. 

At the top landing, Max pointed to the far left door. He had caught his breath so hastened to offer apologetically, "Sorry, not as young as I used to be. I was thinking about climbing mountains in Bolivia with manuscripts hidden in my rucksack." 

Mulder sent him a lop-sided grin. "And I should be used to charging off with a short-legged red-head pounding along furiously by my side, so I should be the one apologizing." 

Max pulled a spare key from his pocket. "Here. In case you need to come back to meet that short-legged red-head without me." 

Pensive, Mulder closed his fingers over the sliver of metal, then dropped it in his pocket. "She'd love to be here, but,..." 

Pushing the door inwards, Max waved him on by. "We know, that trial. Our E-mail comes through a satellite downlink now, so you two can exchange information when you're on the island without a long wait for a modem." 

Mulder took in the sparely furnished living room quickly, wondering how he would fare on the narrow wicker sofa. _Oh, well, it's only for one night._

After locking the door, Max stood behind him. "I know, not like what you'd expect. The first time we spent a night in the city, Caroline took one look at it and immediately began phoning hotels." He clapped a hand on Mulder's shoulder. "But for two bachelors on the lam, like ourselves,..."

Mulder grinned. "No problem. I could use a shower, then a nap before morning."

Max nodded. "I'll show you the bathroom. That I couldn't scrimp on."

\--o-0-o--

Apartment  
Omonia District  
Athens, Greece  
Friday, 5:43 am

The inarticulate cry wrenched Mulder from the light sleep into which he had fallen. _Scully!_ Upright as he was with his legs sprawled out on the slate floor, he flailed as he caught himself, sensing anxiety settling deep in his gut. _Not Scully._ He padded to the bedroom door, feeling the heat pulled into the stones from his bare feet. 

"Mulder?" Max was sweaty, but awake. "Did I startle you?" 

Nodding once, the younger man stood by the side of the bed. "It's okay. I don't sleep much." He bent over his stepfather, who was feeling under the covers for his half-height reading glasses. 

When the older man tugged them free of the pillowcase, his hands were trembling, so Mulder touched his shoulder. 

Max glanced up, then slid out from under the covers. "Sorry. Let me have a glass of water." He waved away the outstretched hands. "I'll be fine." He crossed into the tiny kitchen, pulled a chilled, half-empty bottle of spring water from the bottom shelf on the door of the refrigerator, then poured the remaining contents into a chipped black mug. 

Mulder stood in the doorway, his brow deeply furrowed. "What was that about?" 

After settling at the trestle table, Max drained half the glass, patting his mustache dry before he answered, "The train, then the camp." He met the younger man's eyes. "I haven't had one in a long, long time." He stared out the tiny round window to his right, turning when he heard the bench scrape away from the table. 

Mulder had eased himself down, crossing his arms to rest them on the bare olive-wood planks. "Do you want to talk about it?" 

Max snorted. "Now I know you really have a degree in psychology. I've shrugged off that opening line from more men with PhD's than I care to number." 

Mulder raised one corner of his mouth in apology. "Sorry. Profiling serial killers and chasing mysterious phenomena would have stumped even Bob Newhart." 

Max let loose one of his deep rumbles. "But I doubt it would have phased Emily." 

Mulder grinned, then, as he felt a deep pang of loss, gasped in surprise. 

Max leaned over the table. "What is it?" 

Mulder shook his head. "I had just thought, 'Or Scully.'" He chewed his lower lip, then stared out the same dark window. 

Max noticed that the younger man was twitching, his fingers playing idly with his watchband. "You should feel perfectly free to call her." He dropped his eyes to his own Rolex. "She's probably still up and around." 

Mulder shrugged, then thrust himself to his feet. "That's okay." He swiveled to face the white-haired man. "I mean, thanks, but, not right now." 

Max took another sip, the liquid warmed by his hands around the glass. _Perhaps I'm the one who should be playing therapist._ It was a mantle he assumed with ease, so he crossed his arms to rest them on the table. "Is Scully well?" 

Mulder stopped pacing, fixing Max in the tunnel-stare he had used at the airport. "Yeah." The younger man pressed his back against the doorframe, one foot in the kitchen, one in the living room, then he sighed. "Yeah. She's so cool under pressure. That's partly why we decided I should come to check in with you guys." He reached across the opening to poke at a knot in the pine. "I don't do well in courtrooms." 

Max nodded. "But you feel you should be back there, not here?" 

Mulder chewed his lower lip. "I don't know." The confession was a soft pulse in the night air. "I don't know what was the right path." He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans. "Usually, we hash out our options, then weigh one against the other until we know which way we want to go, but this time..." He stared at the floor. 

Max rose to stand beside him. "You feel torn." He held up his hand. "I don't mean between Scully and your mother." He licked his lips. " I understand how troubled your two lives and your relationship has been." 

_How can he?_ Mulder danced angrily into the living room, then froze. _Of course he understands._ He shrugged an apology. "Sorry. I'm used to people saying that without it really being meaningful." He sank onto the floor, crossing his legs, waiting for Max to claim the sofa. "Yeah, I feel like I have to choose between Scully and Sam." He slanted his eyes at his stepfather. "I've had to before and I never want to again." 

The white-haired man interlaced his long fingers. "It would be a terrible thing, to lose them both, rather than to be at peace with yourself."

He scooted over beside the still-lean form. _Maybe, just maybe..._ "Max, do you believe in the existence of extraterrestrials?"

The white-haired man chewed his mustache, taking the time to compose his answer properly. "Yes." 

Suddenly finding his pulse racing, Mulder bounced onto the sofa. 

Max glanced over at him. "From what I've learned, I think you and Scully have a very good case for yourselves." 

Mulder's lips parted, then he had to clench the ends of the striped sofa cushions to contain his excitement.

Max shifted to face him, pushing his hair off his forehead as he leaned against the upright bolsters. "But those aren't the extraterrestrials I *believe* in. I accept that you've proven their existence. There's one extraterrestrial whose..." 

Mulder burst off the couch, speaking while facing away from the older man. "Max, no offense, but if you're going to try to convert me, don't bother." He crossed his arms. "Don't waste your time telling me I'm one of God's chosen people, that I should wake up and live like my forebears." He spun. "I don't believe there is any such thing as a 'chosen people' and if there were, it wouldn't be the Hebrews. History is full of the failures of the Jews. All the times they were beaten in combat, the efforts of the Inquisition, the Nazis, the problems in Israel..." He threw his arms out. "Even in America, there's the Klan." He paused, not wanting to reveal all he knew about the Shadows, then clenched his fists at his side. "I'm not even sure there's a God. So please, spare me the holy clap-trap."

Max sighed. "But we're still here." 

Mulder frowned. 

Max rose. "You talk about belief, about proof through unconventional means. Consider this. If the Christians were right that Jeshua ben Joseph was the Messiah and the Jews are obsolete, then Vespasian and Titus would have been successful in wiping out Judaism. Oh, they tore down the temple, slaughtered the priests, dispersed the residents to the four corners of the empire, but they never even attempted to force the Jews to convert to paganism." 

Mulder's jaw set. 

Max took a step toward him. "Now the Christians, they were a different matter. They *did* attempt forcible conversions, over and over, from Constantine to Franz Joseph. But that didn't work, did it? We simply kept moving." He held up both hands. "Many did convert, even members of my own family, but not all. We moved, some as far away as China, where they still reside today." 

Mulder snorted. 

Max moved closer. "Or, let us say, the Christians and the Jews both have it wrong, that neither is the chosen people, that the Muslims are correct. Did you know that when the Dome of the Rock was built, that Uthman, the caliph, was shown by his Allah where the Devir, the Holy of Holies, was. That way the Dome of the Rock could have been built over top of it, to *prove* that the Muslims were the heirs of the Jewish tradition?" He paused, waiting for a response, but the dark-haired man was rigid. "Well, let me tell you this. The Dome is built well to the north and east of the Devir's location. What does that tell you?" 

Mulder stepped back. "Uh, what do you want me to say? I didn't, I don't know." 

Max sighed. "All I'm saying, Mulder, is that you can use history to prove whatever you want, that if you believe something hard enough, you can make it reality, without realizing you're doing it." 

Mulder exploded, "Are you saying that you don't believe..." 

Max grasped both his shoulders. "Not at all. I've already stated you've proven your case well enough to satisfy this old attorney. I just want you to keep an open mind about other people's beliefs. That's all." 

Mulder chewed his lower lip, fidgeting under the gaze from the clear brown eyes. "Okay."

Max settled back on the sofa. "But, unfortunately, none of this helps you with Samantha and Scully." 

Taking a seat at the far end of the couch, Mulder nodded. "Yeah. I don't like leaving Scully exposed like that. She wants me to find Sam; she wants to *help* me find Sam. But there's this trial, that she feels, that we both *know* someone needs to be there for." He finished with a shrug.

Max crossed his arms. "Is there anything I can do to help Mister Saunders?" 

Mulder shook his head. "Not unless you can augment his defense." 

Max waved his hand. "I've not kept up my license, or I might give it a try. How is Scully assisting?" 

Mulder arched his shoulders, then blew out a deep breath. "She's checking the testimony of the prosecution's witnesses against whatever facts she can get her hands on. But it's tough. She's running herself ragged, but she won't let anyone spell her." He pressed his palms together between his knees. "It's like she wants to prove she can make up for losing Rosen and Nichols all on her own." He pinched his eyes shut. "She's only one person, Max, she'll wear out and I won't be there for her." His voice dropped to a whisper. "Partners are supposed to be there for each other, no matter what. It took her years to beat that into my thick skull, and now it's like she's forgotten the whole concept." 

Max arched both bushy white eyebrows. "Or perhaps she thinks she's still being there for you."

Color rising in his cheeks, Mulder looked over at Max. "Oh. If she can handle the trial on her own, I won't have to testify, nor will it stand in the way of the search for Sam, so I won't have to chose. Is that what you mean?"

Max nodded. 

Mulder burst off the sofa again. "That's so unfair! It's not her right to make that decision without me!" 

Max crossed his arms. "Is everything still good between you two?" 

Mulder shrugged. "I thought it was. I thought things were... Oh."

Max rose. "Oh, what?" 

The hazel eyes were focused, laser tight. "Whenever Sam's come up on a case before, I've always gone a little...off." He stared at his feet, hunching his shoulders. "But I'm past that. If anything, I know that whatever happens, I'll make it."

Max waited. _I think you have your answer, Mulder._

Mulder whispered, "She thinks she's protecting me from myself. But how?" 

Max rested a hand on his shoulder. "How do you convince her you're not going to go a little, ah, off? How have you two worked out your problems in the past?"

Mulder stared over at him. "We've worked." He shrugged. "On a case. So you're saying I should treat this as a regular inquiry, where we examine evidence and talk it back and forth?" 

Max nodded. "It's worth a try."

Mulder straightened. "Perhaps. If she feels she can be of some help in the search for Sam, she might let me in on this trial business." The younger man grimaced. "Anything's better than 'I'm fine, Mulder.' I never want to hear that from her again."

\--o-0-o--

Apartment 5  
Alexandria, Virginia  
Thursday, 11:43 pm

Dana Scully shivered, then opened both eyes. She had fallen asleep on her sofa, the Maya blanket only partially covering her. Glancing around the darkened room, she called out, "Hello, anyone there?" 

She shook her head. _No, you're on your own._ She pushed herself to her feet, headed for the bathroom, then her own bed. When she stepped into her room, she caught a motion in her dresser mirror, then froze. _Who's in my chair?_ She spun, but the seat was vacant. She turned to face the glass, then clenched her fists. 

In the reflection, she could see a woman, clearly a woman, sitting in the chair. Her long blonde hair was partially veiled by blue linen. A blue cloak over her shoulders was crossed over her knees, but the red of her simply woven shift was visible. What shocked Scully most, however, was the expression of sorrow on her upturned, unlined face. 

Scully spoke to the image in the mirror. "Look, I don't know what sort of a game this is, Frohike, but this isn't funny." 

The expression shifted from grief to confusion. 

Scully turned again, stalking to the chair, picking it up, then flipping it over, lint hanging from the feet as she set it on the floor. She glanced back in the mirror, only to see that the woman was standing beside her, her brown eyes wide in shock. 

Facing the glass, Scully crossed her arms. "Look, I don't know what this is, or how this image is being projected here, but I don't need this. You can be certain that I'll have this apartment swept for concealed electronics in the morning." 

The woman shook her head, saddened once more, running her hands down herself. The blue and red linen molded over the gentle ellipse of her belly, protruding far out in front of the young woman's bare feet. 

Scully set her jaw. "Now I know there's something wrong. Should I be checking my water? Is this what you people put Mulder through?" She reached for her SIG on her nightstand. "If you're just a hallucination, then I'll be able to shoot right through you." She squeezed the trigger repeatedly, sending off several rounds.

The woman grabbed her stomach, crumpling to the floor, blood seeping out onto the blue of her cloak, running over the oak floors, down through the cracks between the planks.

It was more than Dana Scully could take. "No! This can't be happening!" 

She reached out with her hands, catching her fingers in the fringe of the Maya blanket. _Good Lord, how did I end up..._ She staggered into the bedroom, turning on the overhead light, the bedside lamps, even switching on the bulb in her closet. She stared into the mirror, then at the chair. The images in the glass were just what they should have been, her down comforter neatly folded over on her bed, her books all aligned. The chair was empty and upright, just as it ought to be. Her floors all reflected back their natural honey-blonde color, no dark liquids spreading across them like some deadly wave running up on a beach.

Scully shivered again. _What's happening to me?_ Settling back out in her living room, she reviewed the dream. She knew who the blonde woman was, of course, from all her years in the Catholic Church. What she didn't understand was why she had been dreaming about her. _Some lost mothering instinct? Some feelings of guilt over sending Mulder to help his Mother, and mine?_

Normally, she would have called her partner to hash out this latest strangeness. _I doubt you would say it really was the Virgin Mary, Mulder. I sincerely doubt that._ But, right now, she didn't feel she could burden him with any of her problems, let alone bring up anything to do with Catholicism. _Or does it have to do with Catholicism?_

Stepping back into her bedroom, she pulled down a few of the books Missy had lent her, then settled in to read. _Maybe I'll find some answers in here._

\--o-0-o--

Apartment  
Omonia District  
Athens, Greece  
Friday, 7:07 am

Mulder stared hard at the rotary dial on the heavy black desk phone, randomly picking numbers, trying not to think that the clacking of the disk sounded like a rattlesnake about to strike. _Why am I having such trouble with this call? It's Scully, after all._

Resigned, he waited while the plastic spun after each number. _When did I get so used to push-buttons?_ After one ring, he heard a faint, "Scully."

He grinned, his early discomfort past. "Hey, you sleeping?"

"Now, why would I be doing that?" There was a quiet lilt to the voice. "It's only midnight." 

Mulder chewed his lower lip. "Sorry. I wasn't thinking." He heard Scully shift against the cushions, seeing her pull herself into a sitting position in his mind's eye. 

He heard her cough once before she queried, "How was the flight?" 

He leaned back. "Fine. Max met me. That monster of yours tangled my Mom in his leash. She'll be on crutches for a few weeks." 

"Mulder!" There was a pause. "You're serious?"

Glancing back at Max, who was watching from the bedroom doorway, he grunted. "Yeah. But, she's okay."

"Good. Are you okay?" 

He twisted the cord idly. "Yeah. Hey, do you mind doing me a favor?" 

"Anything, Mulder." 

He thought he caught undertones of relief in her voice. "Scully?"

"Hum?" 

"Max is waiting for more information to come in, but would you mind running some background checks on the data they've collected out here? I know Mossad has looked at it all once, but still, they aren't the Bureau." He waved one hand. "If it's too much trouble, with the trial and all, you don't..."

"Mulder! It's no trouble. How shall we transmit this? Encoded through the Gunmen? You know Frohike will be delighted to come to the aid of a certain damsel in distress."

He grinned. "Yeah. You calling him in the middle of the night would be a dream come true." He rubbed his chin. "Yeah. Through the Gunmen. Like always, right?" 

"Like always, Mulder." Her voice took on a warmth and richness not even the phone lines could dampen. 

"Thanks, Scully." 

"Sure." 

He positioned the receiver carefully, then felt a large hand land on his shoulder. 

Max chuckled. "See? Nothing to fear. One final thing." 

Mulder waited while his white-haired stepfather disappeared into the bedroom, then returned, before sending a soft query. "What?"

Max passed him a laminated card. "If you're up late on the island and feel you have sufficient privacy, these are access codes to certain blocked channels from the satellite downlink." 

Mulder flushed a deep purple. "Max, with Mrs. Scully around, I don't think I'll feel comfortable, if you take my meaning." 

The older man shook his head gravely. "Your mother saw your collection, Mulder. You're a grown man and we wouldn't want you to feel inhibited for our sakes." Max bent over him. "I was single at your age too, you know." He patted the dark-haired agent's shoulder. "Now, get some sleep." 

Feeling considerably relieved, Mulder nodded, then settled in.

\--o-0-o--

Apartment 5  
Alexandria, Virginia

Dana Scully replaced the portable phone in its mount, then flopped onto her sofa. _Why did I agree to that? It isn't like I don't have enough work already._ Rubbing her temples, she pulled the Maya blanket down over her, remembering how her partner had draped it over her back, then waited patiently for her migraine to abate all those months ago. Snuggling in under it, she smiled. _Oh, right._

\--o-0-o--

End - Zurvan - Chapter VI - Many Partings


	7. A Visit with Zeus-Ammon

\-----o------------------------------------o-----

Chapter VII - A Visit with Zeus-Ammon 

\-----o------------------------------------o-----

...From Memphis the king sailed on   
the same river to the interior of Egypt,   
and after arranging matters in such a way   
as to make no change in the native customs   
of the Egyptians, he decided to visit the   
oracle of Jupiter Ammon... 

And indeed on the first and the following   
day the toil seemed endurable, since the   
solitudes to which they had come were not   
yet so desolate and barren, yet the land   
was already sterile and moribund...

Four days were spent in traversing   
desert wastes. And now they were not far   
from the abode of the oracle, when a great   
flock of ravens met the army; flying at a   
moderate speed before the van, they now   
lighted on the ground when the line   
advanced more slowly, now raised themselves   
on their wings, as if acting as guides and   
showing the way. At length they arrived at   
the abode consecrated to the god.

"History of Alexander"  
by   
Quintus Curtius Rufus

translated by  
John C. Rolfe

\-----o------------------------------------o-----

Lowenberg Residence   
Santorini, Greece   
Sunday, January 25, 1998   
12:21 pm

Margaret Scully limped alongside Caroline Lowenberg as they made their way slowly down the long driveway. The dark-haired woman checked in both directions before she stepped out into the street. "I never will get used to the differences between your lovely home and the rest of the island, Caroline." 

The white-haired woman shifted her weight off the fractured ankle. "Oh, don't pass the compliments onto me. Sometimes I feel like the second Mrs. DeWinter." She smiled at Margaret's over-the-shoulder glance. "I mean that in a good way. I have no aesthetic senses whatsoever. I'm perfectly content to leave the house the way Thea set it up."

Now Margaret turned to face her. "But aren't you jealous?" 

Caroline stared at her friend. "Of a dead woman? Why? Max loved Thea dearly. He was ready to love someone else when we met." Glancing at the ground, she began to color. "After Bill, that was enough." She ran her finger up and down the side of the crutch. "You have your memories of your Bill and your family's adoration to keep you going." 

Margaret grasped her elbow. "But Fox *does* love you. When he read through your letters to me, I thought his heart would break from joy that you were safe." 

Caroline sent Margaret a desperate glance of hope, one the dark-haired woman recognized instantly. "Really? After losing Samantha, we were always so separate, so distant. We talked more in Miami than we had in years." 

A cloud on the horizon brought both women's attention back to the street.

Caroline cocked her head. "That's the Jag." She chuckled. "Why my insane husband hangs onto that convertible when it's in the shop half the time I'll never know."

Margaret stared back in confusion at her friend.

The white-haired woman smiled, ever so gently. "The mechanic's brother is the mayor. Max can *never* stop politicking."

Since the car was close enough that the driver and passenger could wave to the two women, Margaret smiled in response. "Well, it certainly looks like Fox enjoyed the trip." She glanced at Caroline, who was biting her lower lip. 

Mulder leapt over the door just as Max applied the brakes. "Mom!" His eyes flicked to his left as the tires squealed, then he was in front of the white-haired woman on crutches, grasping her shoulders. "Are you okay?" 

Her fingers still curled around the cross-braces of the aluminum supports, Caroline wrapped her arms around his narrow waist. "I am now, Fox." 

The dark-haired agent gripped her back tightly. "That little mutt. I always knew he would be trouble." 

The white-haired woman chuckled. "Oh, if I didn't try to be Margaret Bourke White, this wouldn't have happened. I should learn to act my age, dear." 

Margaret turned to Max, who was shrugging Mulder's duffel strap over his shoulder. "How was the flight?" 

The white-haired man smiled at the agent's back. "Too short." 

Mulder released his Mother, holding her shoulders long enough for her to position the pads under her armpits, then turned to Max. "I'll get that." 

His stepfather waved off the offer of help. "I've not learned to act my age either." 

Margaret stepped forward. "Fox." 

Mulder nearly lifted her feet off the ground in the exuberance of his embrace. "Hey. Scully says hey, too. She's okay." 

Margaret, her gait uneven, began leading the little group back up to the house. "I'm sure she is, Fox."

Mulder stopped. "Mrs. Scully, what happened to you?" 

Caroline hobbled alongside her son. "We'll tell you inside, dear." 

Nodding, Mulder relieved Max of the bag so the older man could walk beside his wife.

\--o-0-o--

The four had assembled in the airy living room. Mulder was dancing angrily in front of his three elders, glaring at Max and his Mother, who were waiting on the wicker couch. Finally, he turned to Margaret, who was seated in a padded chair. He pointed to her elevated foot. "Why didn't you tell us, Mrs. Scully? Why?"

Caroline sighed. "Fox, we were fine. What you and Dana were pursuing was so much more important than us being in the wrong place at the wrong time you didn't need to know." 

Mulder spun. "Mom, how do you *know* that? All these groups are interconnected somehow. Saunders told us as much. It would only take a phone call to arrange a car bomb." 

The white-haired woman struggled to her feet, waving away Max's outstretched hands. Leaning on one crutch, she stood in front of her son. "Fox." She closed her eyes as she collected her thoughts, opening them only when she felt her son's long fingers grasp her arm. "Please," she commanded, the tone soft, but burdened by darkness, "don't begin to think you know what these groups are capable of." She flicked her eyes at her husband. "Max and I had talked this over carefully - " 

There was a creak of wicker as Margaret rose. "I think I'll make us some lunch." 

Mulder frowned at the dark-haired woman's departing back. "What is it, Mom? What do you know?" 

Caroline wobbled on the crutch slightly. "Please, Fox, sit." She pointed to the cushions of the couch.

Mulder's lips spread into a thin line. _Don't start to play invalid with me, Mom._ Focusing on his mother's hazel eyes, he sensed something unfamiliar, different. The recognition had him taking a step backwards. _She's serious._

Caroline began working around the coffee table, but a flick of her son's hand had it out of her way and converted to a makeshift seat. "Thank you, dear." 

Mulder was poised on the glass-topped table, leaning forward over his mother's knees. "What do you know, Mom?" 

Max grasped his wrist. "That's part of what we wanted to tell you." 

Mulder clasped his hands between his calves. "Why did Mrs. Scully leave?" 

Caroline's response was even softer than her initial request. "She's not one for serious discussions, dear." 

The dark-haired agent shook his head. "She's been through so much with you, I'd think she'd want to know."

Max sighed. "No, she doesn't. There are two kinds of hard truths, Mulder. One is related to personal matters: a friend has cancer, a child is missing. The other is impersonal: the continents move, evolution is essentially correct, we can either know where something is or what its mass is, but not both. It's rare to find a person who can handle both types well, and Margaret, for all her strengths, can only handle the former, not the latter."

Caroline grasped her husband's hand, intertwining her fingers with his. "The hard truth is that the car bomb was a warning to me. A good friend of Max's died during its delivery, however." 

Turning to his step-father, Mulder bit his lower lip momentarily. "I'm sorry." 

The older man waved off the concern with the flick of a finger. "It's happened before, and sadly, it will probably happen again, Mulder. It's the price we pay for the work we do." 

Caroline squeezed Max's palm. "That Ancient Chimney has regained power, son. There would be no other reason to signal me otherwise." 

Mulder glanced at the tan slate under his black shoes. "Does that mean you can't tell me anything?" 

Caroline leaned forward. "Oh, that was one message he wanted me to hear. But, I've safe-guarded what I know where it will come out if you, Dana, or anyone connected with you is injured or killed, so the ground have shifted under that old man's feet. Not that he will ever admit it, of course." 

Mulder's eyes cleared. "Mom, you don't have to do this. We have enough from Saunders that you don't have to tell me if you don't want to." 

Caroline shook her head. "We used to play chess, he and I. He would never launch one of the classic opening moves I had been taught. His favorite stratagem was to simply push his pawns until he could exploit a line of attack that would put me in check three or four different ways. Mine-field chess, he liked to call it." 

Mulder nodded. "He'd end up stalemating, rather than winning or losing."

Mother and son locked eyes. "Exactly. Knowing him like I do, I feel as if we are having a conversation interrupted fifty years ago." She glanced down at her son's white knuckles. "But there's another reason. When we find Samantha, I want there to be no secrets, Fox." She reached with her free hand for his. "I want us to be a real family: no long silences, no dark looks, no years of resentment to eat away what we could become. It would be easy for Margaret to breach this distance if she were estranged from any of her kinder, but it won't be for us, I know that. Just believe I want to try." 

Mulder bent double over his Mother's hand, kissing it once, not trusting himself to speak as his shoulders shook. Finally, he straightened. "That's all I've ever wanted, Mom." 

When Margaret stuck her head around the corner, Max grasped Mulder's shoulder. "Then I suggest, after lunch, we begin."

\--o-0-o--

Mulder followed his Mother into Max's study. "How did you want to do this? I could get my tape recorder."

Caroline eased into Max's desk chair, which was a mate to the carved seat in Miami. "That won't be necessary." Swiveling, she tipped a copy of "Works and Days," then swung the bookshelf away to reveal a safe. "I told you that I've written everything down and hidden it in security." 

Mulder leaned against the desk on her right. "Not here?" 

The white haired woman worked the tumblers, then removed two bulging notebooks. "These are only copies, Fox. There are no real originals, other than up here." She tapped her temple. "I have duplicates in as many different locations as I can think to hide them. Read." She laid them in his hands. 

He raised his eyes to hers. "So little?" 

She shook her head. "No, this is only what can still be verified by other witnesses or physical evidence. I'd like you to read it, to compare it against what you've learned from Saunders. If I could know what he told you, I may be able to add more to it." 

Half-absorbed in the contents, Mulder nodded. "I'll call Scully," he agreed, checking his watch, "once she's done with her sessions with Stone this afternoon. We'll see what we can do electronically, and what needs to be handled on paper." 

Caroline set the crutches under her armpits, then rose. "Good. We're still waiting for the information from Egypt to be cleared through Mossad, then we can consider traveling down there." 

Mulder dropped the notebooks, then stood to guide his Mother to the door. "But, Mom, if you're hurt, shouldn't - ?" When he saw an unfamiliar fire in her eyes, he bit his lip rather than finish the question. 

"This is Sammie, Fox. Would you let a bad ankle stop you?" 

A nod, then he returned to the words on the pages.

\--o-0-o--

Apartment 5  
Alexandria, Virginia  
Sunday, 11:37 pm

The phone buzzing on her nightstand had Scully throwing the comforter off her head. "Scully!" 

"Hey, it's me." She heard a rough crackle she recognized as her partner scratching the stubble on his chin. _I hope he's not been up all night with insomnia again so soon after his arrival._

She shifted upright against the pillows. "How is Santorini, Mulder?" 

His sigh rattled in her ear. "Mom and Max and Mrs. Scully were almost caught in a car bomb explosion in Haifa." 

She rolled onto her knees. "What? When was this?" 

Mulder filled her in on the details, then finished softly, "I guess you were right to shove me out of the nest, Scully." 

She held her hair off her face with her free hand. "They didn't want us to worry? We've been doing nothing but, Mulder, did you *tell* them that? Can I speak with Mom?" 

"I'll see if she's around. But, - " 

She curled around the phone. "But what?" When she heard a chair creak, she could see him, in her mind's eye, propping both feet up on whatever piece furniture was nearby. "What is it?" 

"We need to be able to talk in privacy." 

Unconsciously, she glanced at her bedroom door. "I'll call you back from the Lion's Den, okay?" 

"Yeah."

\--o-0-o--

Office of the Lone Gunmen  
Alexandria, Virginia  
Monday, January 26, 1998  
5:52 am

Standing beside the sofa, Frohike studied, for a few seconds, the diminutive agent who was relaxed in slumber. Like so many of her other visits to their residence, she had curled into a ball on the couch by the door, her long trench-coat pulled tightly around her. The round-faced Gunman treated himself to a casual sweep with his eyes. He surveyed the black jogging shoes peeking out beneath the wool, the compact, slender body the drape could not conceal. His gaze lingered on the auburn hair pulled back in a ponytail until her neck was cocked at what must have been a painful angle to sleep. Kneeling by her face, he called reluctantly to her, "Agent Scully?" 

The faint whisper sent her upright, her green-blue eyes as wide as if it had been an electric shock. "Are you ready yet?" A slight cough, then she was standing, waiting for a response. 

Frohike nodded. "Langly's put the finishing touches on the reconstruction algorithm right now." 

Byers was halfway out the door when he nearly collided with Scully. "Sorry. Fro'd been gone so long..." He waved them behind him. "It's ready whenever you are." 

Scully sighed. "I'm not sure this is all that helpful, since a simple wiretap somewhere on the phone network of the Island itself would be sufficient to track anything we discuss, but Mulder wanted it." She looked to Langly. "You say the encoding of the voice is working on Mulder's end? How do you know?" 

Langly smirked. "Max had a satellite phone link installed to bypass the local systems altogether." He swiveled his chair to face her directly. "As you say, the Dark Dudes already know where we all sit, so covert is out. All we can do is encrypt and decrypt. Caroline can get radical with the gizmo-geeking so she's installed our new scheme on their computer. Had it just been everyone's favorite G-man, we'd be stuck with speaking in code like you two had to earlier." He hit a key to switch the outputs to a square black speaker. "Hey, Mulder, you ready?" 

A slight hiss of static, then a familiar voice, sounding slightly synthesized. "All clear, guys. You let Scully sleep some, Fro?" 

The round-faced Gunman stuck his thumbs in the belt loops of his pants. "The better to admire her exotic beauty, my friend." 

Scully leaned over the table. "Mulder, what was it you needed to speak with me in security about?" 

A chuckle. "Don't use your SIG on Fro once we're done, Doctor. Remember, we still need his expertise."

Preparing a jibe, Frohike puffed his chest, but one glare from Scully had him snapping his mouth shut. 

She growled, "What, Mulder?" 

Frohike waggled his thick eyebrows at her back. 

"My Mom needs to see the trial transcripts and the evidence from Saunders. She thinks she can authenticate some of it, and that other parts will serve as verification for what she knows." 

Scully knelt, holding her head up with her fist. "Is that safe for her to do?" When Byers touched her shoulder, she glanced back, then nodded as she rose to perch on a bench stool he had carried over for her. "There's that deal she made, if you recall." 

"More to it than that. She's secreted information where Morley Man can't reach it, but if anything happens to any of us, it goes public."

Scully blew out a breath. "Good thing she's on our side." 

"Well?" She could imagine him pacing as he waited. 

Scully pressed her palms against her knees. "The trial transcripts are a matter of public record, so it won't be a problem." She shrugged. "We could even mail them in the open if we so chose." 

"Hum. You think Skinner'll not be too crazy about letting go of Saunders' other testimony though?" 

She shook her head. "Understatement of the Century. Try he sleeps with it, more likely." 

"Oohh!" chanted a gleeful three-part chorus. 

Scully rolled her eyes. "Mulder-don't-tell-me-to - "

Another chuckle. " - break into his office and steal it?" His voice dropped to its deepest. "Why, Doctor, I *am* rubbing off on you. Go for it, G-woman." 

Shaking her head, she cocked an eyebrow at Frohike. "Let me try the direct route first, all right?" She checked her watch. "If I leave now, maybe I can catch him outside the Hoover Building." She stood. "I'll let you know, okay?" 

"Yeah. Good Luck." 

A quick wave, a shrug into her coat, then the auburn-haired pathologist was gone. 

Frohike slid onto the metal seat. "Mulder, my man, I gotta thank you. Dana doing black and sexy." 

A snort. "Don't load your camera yet, Fro. She'll find some official way to get the job done." A pause. "Later, guys." 

"Later," they chimed in response, Langly tapping the keyboard to terminate the conversation.

\--o-0-o--

X-Files Offices  
Second Floor  
Hoover Building  
Monday, 6:57 am

Dana Scully rose when the broad-shouldered form of Assistant Director Skinner blocked the doorway. "Sir, thank you for coming to see me so early." 

Skinner's dark eyes darted around the room. "It seems empty in here." 

Striding purposely forward, Scully nodded. "But not for long. When we're all in the new offices, we'll make so much noise Mulder won't be able to think." 

The bald Director's nostrils flared. "Have you heard from Agent Mulder?" 

Standing in front of him, she crossed her arms. "Several times, Sir. He needs our help to further the investigation into his sister's whereabouts. If I could have access to Tyrell Saunders' debriefing, I could - " 

Skinner shook his head. "Those are extremely sensitive materials, Agent Scully. There are Bureau safe-guards in place I can't override on a whim." 

She glanced at the tiled floor, reminding herself to check the carpets in the new building for her partner. "I'm aware of that, Sir." She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "Could my access to those materials be facilitated if they were requested as part of an official investigation?" 

Skinner's jaw set. "As an X-File? I couldn't authorize that. Chief Blevins would go clear to the Attorney General in a heartbeat." 

Her green-blue eyes narrowed at this new information. 

Turning, he closed the outer door behind him. "But, Agent Scully, if they were needed for a court case, to check a potential juror, shall we say?" He met her eyes meaningfully. 

She nodded. "I'll see what I can do, Sir."

\--o-0-o--

Alexandria Courthouse  
Alexandria, Virginia  
Monday, 9:47 am

When a tall figure appeared around the corner, Scully hurried east along King Street. "Stone!" 

Hunched into a thick trench-coat, the towering attorney glanced back over his shoulder. "Dayh-na? You didn't need to be here today." His broad, slightly comical grin elicited an echo from her. "Not that this semi-frozen boy from the Bayou minds." Sobering, he strode toward the glass double door of the courthouse entrance, but Scully blocked his path. 

"Stone, you need to requisition some more Bureau documents to help with the jury selection." They both suspected their dark enemies were responsible for two jurors and both alternates requesting deferrals after having been chosen, due to, or so they said, illnesses of a child or elderly parent, but there was no proof. The former jurors refused to explain further, but had been released, so replacements were in the process of being selected. 

Amusement set his over-sized features twitching. "Ah, and which documents would those be?" 

Scully took a step backwards, understanding why this man had worked so well with her partner. "All of Saunders' debriefing. You'd like to eliminate the possibility that one or more of the potential jurors might have been mentioned in it." 

He nodded. "Ah see. All in the name of justice." He pointed toward the entrance. "We'll find a quiet room so I can fill out the necessary forms for you. Make it all nice and proper. Since the Bureau is attempt'n to shrug off its reputation of favorin' the Prosecution, they'll have to help." 

They passed through the richly paneled hall, its carved plaster ceiling supported by mahogany pillars, then Stone held the brass elevator door for her. "Ladies first." His long, soft palm landed on her back gently.

\--o-0-o--

Lowenberg Residence  
Santorini, Greece  
Monday, 4:32 pm

"Fox?" Margaret Scully poked her head through the study doorway. "The man from Mossad has finally arrived." 

Rising, Mulder rested his glasses on the desk, then returned the documents to the safe behind him. "Thanks, Mrs. Scully. I'll be right there." When he entered the living room, he was greeted by three somber faces. 

Max stood. "Mulder, this is Yuseph Hiram. He has some very serious news for us." 

The Mossad agent rose, then extended his muscled, tapered hand. His normally olive complexion was darkened, his average-height frame was whip-thin, making Mulder suspect most of his time was spent outside. "Good to met you, Agent Mulder." He bowed his head, covered with jet-black curls.

The dark-haired agent grasped his hand briefly, then his hazel eyes narrowed. "Serious, as in reliable, or as in potentially unfavorable?" 

His Mother's bleak look was all the answer he needed. 

Feeling his world collapsing around him, Mulder slumped into the wicker chair by the telephone stand. "I don't think I want to ask." 

His brown eyes radiating sympathy as the American's obvious grief, Hiram passed Mulder three surveillance photographs. "The top image is of the Silverbergs as they disembarked in Cairo. The second is them boarding a cruise ship going down the Nile. Our office is guessing that they wanted to take in the sights in Egypt while they were there." 

Mulder flipped to the third print. "This is an enlargement of the ship's registry plaque." He looked up. "What happened to it?" 

Caroline sighed. "Nothing, Fox. It's what happened to the passengers." 

The papers slid through Mulder's now nerveless fingers. His throat constricted until he could only stammer a breathless, "What?"

Max grasped Caroline's hand tightly. "Tell him, Yuseph." 

The tanned, lean man shifted on the cushions. "When the cruise ship reached the archaeological ruins at Tel El-Amarna, there was a group of militant Pan-Arabists among them." 

Mulder covered his face with his hand. "No. Please, no." 

Hiram shook his head. "I'm sorry, but they killed several American passengers and took the rest hostage." He glanced at his hands. "Sadat's government, as you know, didn't believe in negotiating with a group like this, so they assaulted the tour office where they were held. Some of the hostages were killed, some were returned directly to Cairo with the military and sent immediately to America. Given Sadat's desire to open Egypt to the West, the matter was handled very quietly." 

Mulder pressed his palms together, then bounced his thumbs against his nose. "But you don't know if the Silverbergs were among the dead or the hostages?" 

Hiram cocked his head. "It was hard enough to get this information out of the Egyptians. After what happened last fall, the last thing they want is to have a twenty-year-old terrorist attack dredged up to scare more tourists away." He rose. "Since there is a possibility that Israeli citizens may have been killed, Mossad is proceeding with an investigation." 

Mulder bounded to his feet. "What? How can you determine anything now?" 

Max stood by his step-son. "Several of the victims were claimed by family members, but what bodies weren't identified were buried there, Mulder. The Israeli government has been granted permission to disinter them quietly to identify the remains." 

Mulder looked down at his Mother. "No one identified the Silverbergs, did they?" 

Returning his bleak look, she shook her head. 

Mulder stepped up to the Mossad agent. "When can we leave?"

\--o-0-o--

Office of the Lone Gunmen  
Alexandria, Virginia  
Monday, 8:21 pm

Pacing, Dana Scully rubbed the back of her neck as she waited for Langly to finish with his latest upgrades. 

Byers stopped her perambulations by blocking her path, then holding out a glass of apple juice. "If you're anything like Vicky, you've been running all day, Agent Scully." 

Sighing, she dropped into one of the computer chairs, then drained the tumbler. "Thank you." She handed it back to him. "With the meetings and the court sessions, I'd forgotten to eat." 

Langly swiveled. "Well, turnabout is fair play. You'll be hitting up Mulder in the middle of the night this time." He hit the speaker controls, initiating a sequence of beeps. "We're letting little cyber fingers do the walking, see?" 

A cough issued from the black box. "Hey." 

Smirking, Scully crouched in front of the speaker. "You're not sleeping in the study, are you?" 

Sandpaper rubbing. "Yeah. We'll have to keep this short and sweet. We'll be leaving for Cairo in a few hours." 

Scully propped her head up with her fist. "Oh? Your clearances have finally come through?" 

"Hum. Hey, guys, can I have a minute with my partner here?" 

Four frowns, then the three men filed out. 

Scully rested her hand on top of the speaker. "What is it, Mulder?" 

More scrabbling on sandpaper, then a sniffle. "It isn't good, Scully. Mossad is checking for us." She heard the chair creak as he rose. "But, they're afraid the Silverbergs were caught in an bomb attack by Islamic Militants. Apparently what happened at Luxor last November is old news." 

Dana Scully wanted nothing more than to crawl into the holes of the speaker, to pull herself along the copper and fiber to reach the man drowning in naked grief at the other end. "Mulder, it isn't true. Sam's still out there, waiting for you to find her. You can't lose hope now."

"Oh, God, Scully, what if it is? What if all we find is a plaque with names?" She could imagine him rising to pace. "All we've been through, you and I, my family and yours, all to end down there in, in - " A whimper. 

She gripped the little box with both hands. "Mulder! Mulder, listen to me! It's a lie! You know they've told you lies before. I'll set the Gunmen on tracking down anyone by the name of Silverberg here in America. Don't let them win, Mulder." 

"What?" Flickers of hope in the tone.

"If you believe she's dead, you'll give up in despair and stop pursuing them, which is what they've always wanted." She eased into Langly's padded chair. "Send me more details on this attack and we'll see if any foreign orphans matching her description turned up in this country shortly thereafter." 

"Orphans?" A creak as he settled against the velvet pads. 

"Mulder, your Father told me on the Solstice that they would make certain he never found her again. How better to do it than by staging her adoptive family's death?" 

A sniffle, followed by a dark silence. "I thought you didn't believe any of that was real, Scully." 

She dropped her forehead to the desk-top momentarily. "I don't know what to believe anymore, Mulder. It may have been real, or it may have been my unconscious sending up an image borne from those memories of mine. I haven't recalled everything that happened to me in those missing three months, in case you've forgotten." 

He grunted. "You've read too much Freud, Doctor." 

The lightness in the tone reassured her, creasing her cheeks. "I may have, but I'm not ready to quit. I have the transcripts and Saunders's statements here. The Gunmen and I can scan them in to send to you whenever you return." 

"Okay. It'll have to be then, I suppose. I don't like it that my Mom and your Mom are coming along. I'd feel safer if it was just me and Max, or just, - " There was that sandpaper scratching again. 

She cocked her head. "Just what?" 

A sigh. "You and me, Scully. I'd feel..." He stopped. 

Scully glanced down at the scuffed grey surface. "Thank you, Mulder, I wish I were there, too. I feel like I'm spinning my wheels going through this trial all over again. But we'll be moving the office soon, Cynthia and I." 

"Oh?" 

"The new building is ready for us. I was planning on having the Gunmen scan it and set up anti-bugging devices as we moved in. That sound good to you?" 

"Yeah." 

She patted the speaker. "Mulder, try to get some sleep tonight. Take care of yourself in Egypt. Sam needs to hug her big brother and her mother when we find her, okay?" 

"Yeah." A cough. "I'll be in touch."

\--o-0-o--

Along the Nile  
Friday, January 30, 1998  
1:27 pm

Mulder had finally worn out with his endless pacing, collapsing in a deck chair at the bow of the motorized yacht. 

Yuseph Hiram approached the dark-haired agent quietly. He had been enchanted by Margaret Scully's description of her auburn-haired daughter, but he knew that here was a wealth of information going untapped. Also, if anything would calm the FBI agent, it would be a discussion of his absent partner. 

Mulder stirred, blinking up at the brown curls above his face. "Hey." 

Hiram leaned against the railing. "I need a favor from you." 

Now the tall agent was on his feet. "What?" 

The lean, tanned Israeli crossed his arms. "Tell me about your partner." 

Mulder danced around him. "Why?" 

Hiram shrugged. "It passes the time. Her mother trotted out all the photographs she had, but most stop when Dana graduated from college." 

Mulder shoved his fists in the pockets of his canvas shorts. "What is it to you what Scully's like? She's the best agent I know and it has been my privilege to work with her. So? How soon do we reach El-Minya?" 

Hiram held up both hands. "Hey, it'll be tomorrow. I've pulled out all the stops to get us there, Mulder. The only highway along the Nile will take two more days to clear from this latest sandstorm. Humor me. Tell me about Dana Scully. Her mother said she was missing for several months." 

Now the tall agent ran his fingers through his hair. "Yeah, she was. We've never really worked out all that happened to her while she was gone. She's remembered some of what happened to her, and we've verified parts of that. But as for what happens to her long-term with her health," Mulder worried, shaking his head, "I couldn't begin to guess." He eyed the lean, tanned Mossad agent. "Do you think your agency could help?" 

Relieved to have made some connection with the dark-haired American, Hiram nodded.

Digging in his back pocket, Mulder flipped out several photographs, tapping the first. In the image, Scully had a Baltimore Orioles cap jammed on over her auburn hair, as Mulder was squinting into the sun. "This was she before she was taken. After a case in Baltimore, we had gone to Camden Yards for a game against the Yankees. Given what we had both been through, we needed a little down-time." His lopsided grin spread. "She's sure one for the stats." Something dark flickered over his face, then he flipped the photo over. "This is us at RFK the following year. My dad had two season tickets." He shook his head. "You can see how much the disappearance changed her." He shoved the images into the other man's hand. "If you guys could find out anything," he asked as he bit his lower lip momentarily, "well, we'd both appreciate it."

Hiram nodded. "She looks like she survived a prison camp." 

Mulder lifted the photos away, tucking them back in their plastic flap. "Yeah, in a way, we think she had." He pocketed the leather billfold. "So, what was it you wanted to know about her?" 

Hiram took Mulder's seat. "She likes sports?" 

Mulder nodded. "She works hard to overcome what she sees as her physical limitations and sports just enhance her competitive edge." 

"Any hobbies?" 

The tall agent shrugged. "Who has time? She roller-blades and reads about archaeology and history to relax." He waggled his fingers toward the East bank. "She'd love to be here, seeing this."

Hiram leaned back. "Any boyfriends?" 

Mulder sagged along the railing until he was seated on the deck. "No. No time. She and I are on the road too much to have any kind of a stable relationship with anyone, either of us." He squinted up at the black curls. "Why?" 

Hiram shifted, feeling like he was being subjected to a father's or brother's cross examination. _No, a partner's._ Hoping to deflect the American's concern, he shrugged. "Nothing serious. Her Mom made her sound like Wonder Woman, that's all. I figured everybody has a few flaws. I'll leave you to your solitude, then." The lean man slid off the canvas.

Max walked up to join them. "We have a satellite link, Mulder, if you wanted to check in with your partner." 

Mulder grinned again. "Yeah, after Mrs. Scully is finished, I will." He pushed himself to his feet, then hurried off.

\--o-0-o--

Margaret Scully looked up from the communications console. "We have to type in messages, but at least it's near-real time." She tapped the upper half of the screen. "Her words appear here, yours below."

Nodding, Mulder bent over her shoulder, scanning the last line. 

"It's been busy, but I don't mind. The trial is proceeding very slowly." 

Margaret yielded the seat to Mulder. "I'm finished here, Fox."

Mulder pounded rapidly on the keyboard. "Hey, Spookster's checking in." He leaned back. 

The letters of the reply popped on the screen all at once, as if they had been typed in a rush. "Mulder! Good to read you." 

Mulder checked over his shoulder to be certain they were alone, then smirked as he typed, "I have a handsome Mossad agent all primed for an evening with my resident Mrs. Peel." 

The answer window was unchanged, then he read, "Oh? He comes with the Mulder seal of approval?" 

More pounding. "He thinks he does." He waited. 

"Good to read you joking, Mulder. Is there anything I can do on this end? I have the documents and if you gave me your location, I could deliver them in person." 

He grinned as he typed, "I take it a move isn't high on your list of pleasurable pursuits?" 

"What do you think? Seriously though, if there's any forensics you need verified, any at all, give me a buzz. I know how important th - " 

Mulder frowned, looking away only when the Captain appeared. 

The thin man in white shook his head. "Sorry, Sir, we lost the link. We'll be able to get something tomorrow about this time." 

Mulder crossed his arms. "I still don't see how this is more secure than a phone conversation." 

Hiram appeared beside him. "Egypt's a third world country in many ways, Mulder. You can't expect the same conveniences here as in America." 

Mulder snorted as he stood. "Yeah. It's the first time I've been in a place where a boat's faster than driving." He barreled past the Israeli to speak with his partner's mother. "Mrs. Scully!" 

The dark-haired woman turned. "That was quick." 

Mulder trotted up to her. "We lost the link. What did you two talk about?" 

Margaret studied the fidgeting agent. _He really is utterly dependent on my daughter._ "Nothing much, really. She wanted to be certain I was taking care of my leg." 

Glancing around, Mulder pulled a deck chair close to the older woman. "That's all? Nothing more?" 

Margaret slid onto the still-compressed cushions. "She was concerned about you. She worried whether you were sleeping enough." 

Mulder flopped onto the painted planks, crossing his long legs. "Yeah, well, Mrs. Scully, she doesn't need to know that I'm not." 

Margaret shook her head. "She's your partner, Fox." 

He began tugging at the hem of his T-shirt. "Right now, she's busier than I am; she's carrying more responsibilities by herself than she should." 

Margaret grasped his shoulder. "I have faith that Samantha isn't buried at Tel El-Amarna. She's safe and well." 

Mulder fought to keep his eyes from shining with tears. "Yeah. I hope so."

Margaret cocked her head. "She also told me about Akhenaten and his attempt at monotheistic worship of Aten. She made me promise to take pictures of the ruins." She ran her hand down the back of his head. "Think on that." 

He sighed, forcing himself to joke. "Oh, that's what kept you on so long. She was explaining things to you." Dark ridges grew between his eyebrows. "I'm sorry, I gotta go." He was on his feet and away before she could protest.

"They're both so alike." Max's hazel eyes were focused on the cabin that blocked his view of his stepson.

Margaret looked up at the white-haired speaker who had just joined her. "Caroline is just as frantic, I take it." 

Max sighed. "As much as a seventy-seven year old on crutches can be." He unfolded the green canvas chair he had carried out with him. "She's finally collapsed, and I wanted to take this opportunity to see how he was doing." 

Margaret waited until he was seated. "This was how Fox was when Dana was missing, this worrying himself to exhaustion." When Max rubbed his forehead, she grasped his shoulder. "How are you?" 

His mustache pulled above an uneven smile. "Getting too old for this, Maudie." He patted her hand. "I also have faith that Sam isn't among the victims." 

Margaret shifted. "For sanity's sake, I must, but you usually have something substantial to pin your hopes on. What makes you say that?" 

Max leaned against the canvas back. "If the deaths had come from a surprise explosion, like a car bomb, I would be agreeing with Mulder and Caroline. But usually in hostage situations, even if there's no negotiation, children are turned over to the authorities." He looked over at her. "Usually. This was well before the attack that killed Sadat, so tempers may have been more in check." He shrugged. "That's what I'm counting on, anyway." 

Margaret nodded. "I suppose you've tried to explain this to Caroline?" 

He sighed. "I've had about as much success with her as you've had with her son." 

Margaret clasped her hands together in her lap. "Then, let tomorrow come soon. One way or another, at least the waiting will be over."

\--o-0-o--

Tel El-Amarna  
El-Minya, Egypt  
Saturday, January 31, 1998  
8:27 am

Mulder, his duffel strap slung over his shoulder, was circling the deck of their cruiser, waiting for the boat to finish docking. Once the exit-way had been fastened, he was preparing to leap over the rope gate, but Hiram grasped his shoulder. Mulder glared back. "It's been long enough!" 

The Mossad agent guided him out of the way. "Let the forensics team out first, Agent Mulder. We have an agent who has already marked out the locations of the burial, but it's important we collect evidence properly." 

Mulder bared his teeth at the man with the black curls. "This isn't *your* sister we're talking about." 

Understanding the importance of professional detachment afresh, Hiram shook his head. "No, it isn't. But I'm certain Agent Scully would caution you just as I am." 

Mulder relaxed marginally, then turned to hoist a forensics crate over the duffel bag. "Anything's better than waiting." 

Max had his arm on Caroline's back, guiding her along the deck, then called out to the Mossad agent, "How long before we reach the burial site?" 

Hiram reached to relieve Margaret, who was following behind, of some of her burdens. "Only a few minutes. The transport is more to spare us carrying everything than for the distance. There's room on the bus we've commandeered for all of us." Looking down onto the dock. "It seems Mulder has taken on the task of loading equipment single-handedly." 

Caroline followed his gaze to a battered, rusty Ford bus, where the assembled team members were watching Mulder load their trunks and crates. "Perhaps he'll calm down, just a little." 

Max stepped back. "You ready, Lin-chen?" 

She gripped his hand. "As much as I'll ever be."

\--o-0-o--

Tel El-Amarna  
El-Minya, Egypt  
Saturday, 1:32 pm

Max mopped his brow with a gritty towel, then plopped a torn straw hat back on his white hair. Having cleared from the area of the burials the few scraggly bushes that had grown up, the Mossad forensics team was blocking the ground in a grid pattern with stakes and string. He and Margaret had volunteered for either digging or sifting or both, so were now waiting for their first load of dirt. 

Margaret patted her borrowed gardening hat down firmly as she scanned the team working in front of them. "Do you see Fox anywhere?" 

Max chuckled. "The last I saw, he was carrying tables from the bus." He glanced at his wife. "Poor Caroline. I know she hates to feel useless." 

A querulous tenor cut through the murmurs. "What's the problem here? When are you getting started?" 

Some of the assembled workers had spread out rag rugs in a line facing east. They were passing around a water jug to splash the contents on their hands and faces before beginning to kneel. 

Margaret turned to Caroline, who was just catching up to them. "He doesn't understand that they're Muslims?" 

The white-haired woman sighed. "Fox just sees this as another delay." She smiled up at Max. "I think I have an idea as to how I can distract him." 

Mulder spun at his mother's call. When she waved him over, he nearly tripped on the strings in his haste to reach her. "Mom? What is it?" 

She tipped her head to look up at her son. "While this digging is beginning, I'd like to find out if any of the nearby residents here were around at the time of the siege." 

Mulder frowned. "Yeah. That might not be a bad idea. But we'll need a translator." 

Caroline nodded. "Yes, for some reason, this wasn't one of the languages I learned at home." She chuckled. "A translator." 

When Caroline had called out, Hiram had begun trotting over. "Need a translator for what? I speak the local dialect passably well." 

Caroline smiled up at him, his height and build so similar to her son's. "We were thinking of finding some witnesses, if any are still alive." 

The black curls bobbed. "We've already recovered everything we can from the archives. I don't think many of the people living here were interviewed, so we can start with the few old men in the village." He pointed to a tan jeep. "I have the keys. Let's go."

Max guided his wife toward the wide-tired vehicle, waiting until Mulder was wedged into the back seat so they could both help her up into the high passenger compartment. 

Mulder twisted his legs around to the side. "Don't worry, Max, she'll be safe with us." 

Max nodded. "I'm sure she will be."

Caroline blew Max a quick kiss, then they were on their way.

\--o-0-o--

X-Files Offices  
Second Floor  
J. Edgar Hoover Building  
Saturday, 8:03 am

Dana Scully tore the strip of packing tape off the roll with her teeth, then wearily pressed it into the top of an unmarked government-issue carton. 

Cynthia, her long brown hair in a braid, glanced over. "Agent Scully?" She bit her lip momentarily. "You've been at this since last night, haven't you?" 

Scully nodded. "I'm trying to beat the ice storm. If we can get the U-haul loaded and unloaded by tonight, we should be all right." She rose when the sound of voices echoed down the hall. 

Frohike led the other two Gunmen into the former X-Files offices. "The new spaces are all clean. We can move whenever you're finished here." 

Scully scribbled a number on top of the box she had just taped. "Okay, I think that's it." She looked toward her partner's office. "Sir?" 

Walter Skinner rolled the easy chair through the door on a handcart. "Yes?" 

Scully smoothed down the sides of her black jeans as she walked over to him. "Are you finished in there?" 

The bald Director shook his head. "I've taped the desk drawers, but those piles are beyond me to categorize. Do *you* understand how he kept all that stuff straight?" 

Scully arched one auburn eyebrow. "Steno's Law of Superposition, Sir." 

Her hand over her mouth, Cynthia giggled. 

Skinner frowned at the two women before Byers stepped forward. "Youngest on top, Director Skinner." 

Turning back to the diminutive agent, the bald former Marine nodded. "How did you wish to proceed, Agent Scully?" He pushed up the sleeves on his fatigue sweater. "I'm entirely at your disposal for the day." 

In the doorway, Langly’s mouth formed into an O as he admired the taut muscles on the Assistant Director. 

Frohike whispered in his ear, "Down, boy. Married, remember?" 

Byers shook his head at his compatriots, silencing them. 

Scully tucked a stray lock of hair back into her ponytail clip. "Well, Sir, if you and the Gunmen would start moving the furniture, I'll take a stab at those piles with Cynthia."

The brunette grabbed a handful of boxes, then was through the door before Langly could step up to Skinner's side. 

The bald director eyed him. "Let's start with the furniture in this part of the room, then we'll see how full the trailer is." 

Langly tipped Cynthia's desk up on end. "What about your quarters?" 

Skinner stopped in his efforts to angle the easy chair out the door sideways. "The Bureau movers are coming this Tuesday. Too many of us carting office belongings would rouse suspicion." 

Byers took a roll of duct tape from Frohike. "Think we should warn Walter?" 

The round-faced Gunman shook his head. "And spoil the fun? Nope. It's been a while since our boy developed a crush on somebody." 

Scully poked her head back through the doorway. "What are you guys talking about?" 

Red-faced, Byers waved his hand at her. "Nothing, Agent Scully. Go back to Mulder's table." 

Her ponytail swaying, the agent disappeared. 

As he shifted boxes to provide a clear path for Scully's desk, Frohike spoke toward the open door. "Someone might as well have some fun; after all, the Lady of Tara *continues* to rebuff my tender affections." 

A lazy alto floated out of the larger office, "I *heard* that." 

Frohike called back, "You were supposed to!"

\--o-0-o--

El-Minya, Egypt  
Sunday, February 1, 1998  
3:54 pm

Mulder waited for his Mother to step forward, then Hiram stopped in front of yet another toothless old man. He called out a question softly, then waited. 

The grizzled, turbaned senior pointed toward a doorway across from them. 

Mulder leaned over Hiram's shoulder. "What?" 

The Israeli turned. "He says we should talk to the owner of that house." The three crossed the square slowly, Hiram calling out a greeting when they were at the window. 

A middle-aged man with a twinkle in his eye poked his head out. "Yes?" 

Caroline gasped. "You speak English?" 

The proprietor nodded. "I attended an American school in Cairo. It comes in handy with the tourists." 

Mulder crossed his arms. "Do you know why we're here?" 

The man disappeared, then stepped through the doorway. "Of course. I knew it was only a matter of time before someone decided to investigate what happened. I didn't expect it would be after I had ten sons, however." He waved at the back of his small house. 

Caroline presumed he was indicating the family sleeping quarters. "So, what can you tell us? Were you there for the attack?" 

The proprietor shrugged. "Of course I was. We all were. Only now is it worthwhile to come forward." 

When Caroline began wobbling on her crutches, their host clapped his hands twice. Two black-haired young men, both in their middle teen years, appeared with a high padded stool, holding it until the white-haired woman was settled. "Thank you," she said. The two teenagers bowed and vanished. 

Their host waved the agents toward a pile of pillows, which Hiram and Mulder moved to remain close to Caroline. 

Once they were settled, their host drew a deep breath. "It was early in the morning when the take-over happened. I was still unmarried, so I was waiting on the dock to sell trinkets to the tourists who were disembarking." He shrugged. "There was some shouting, some shooting. Then the Arabists took the passengers to the main building. After two days, the soldiers from Cairo arrived, with some foreigners." 

Mulder stretched his long legs out in front of him. "Foreigners?" 

Their host nodded. "Men in grey suits. Expensive suits. They kept in the background, only coming out to speak when the leader of the Arabists was willing to negotiate." 

Hiram cocked his head. "They negotiated?" 

The proprietor rose. "Yes. Because of the men in Grey. We all thought it very odd, but said nothing. Since I have the only free rooms in the area, the men in Grey and some of the officers stayed here." He waved his hand. "The children stayed here as well."

Caroline gripped the crutches, resting crosswise on her lap. "Children? Which children?" 

Having retrieved a small box, the man settled down again. "Mostly boys, but one girl. One of the grey suits was especially careful about the girl." 

Mulder and Caroline exchanged a glance, then the dark-haired agent asked, "What did the girl look like?" 

The man closed his eyes for a moment. "More like a boy than a girl, actually. The Grey Suit kept using a boy's name on her, but she kept correcting him." He shrugged. "They were both very insistent about it." 

Mulder could scarcely keep still. "What was her name?" 

The proprietor popped the top of the box. "Sarah. Yes. She would say it repeatedly, 'My name is Sarah, now.'" He lifted out a dress. "She and the Grey Suit departed before everyone else did, so quickly, in fact, that they left these possessions behind." 

Mulder crawled across the space. "May I?" 

The turbaned man handed the box over. 

Mulder spread the contents across the dirt floor. A blue dress, a little book of Hebrew stories, the gilded letters for the title on the back cover, and a pair of black patent shoes were scrutinized by the three guests. 

Caroline struggled to lift out the print they had found at the Kibbutz. "That's the dress she was wearing in the school photo, see?" 

Mulder nodded. "I wonder who the man in the Grey Suit was?" 

Their host lit a home-rolled cigarette. "He never said, but I remember the eyes. Sad, worldly-wise, as if he were as old as the desert and had seen as much greatness pass before him." 

Mulder gasped. "I was expecting you to say someone else." 

Caroline nodded. "So was I." She turned to her son. "I take it you knew him as well?" 

Mulder nodded. "He gave his life for me, Mom. Scully and I will have to tell you about it sometime." 

She closed her eyes for a moment. "Yes, that would be like him. Even while Bill and my Mystery Man were jockeying for my attention, he was there, too. Always so morose." She reached for her son's hand. "I'll want to know." 

Extricating himself from his Mother's grip, Mulder hugged himself. "I trusted him." Blinking back tears, he began rocking. "Before I knew that I could rely on Scully, he was the *only* one I trusted." 

Caroline struggled to her feet. "We should go back to the others and tell them. Whatever happened to the Silverbergs, it didn't involve Sam."

\--o-0-o--

Dark Apartment  
Washington, DC  
Sunday, 10:32 am

As the Man with the Morleys checked through his spyhole, he let out a chuckle. _I think I know what these two have come for._ He unlocked the door. "Yes, my young friends, what can I do for you?" 

McConnell pushed 'Charlie' in ahead of him. "Where is she?" 

The old man lit a cigarette. "Where she is much happier, no thanks to you."

'Charlie' knocked the tube from his lips. "Tell us! We were just waiting for the wedding, then things would have been right again!" 

A grey brow arched. "Would they? I wonder. Do you have any idea of the caliber of mind you were resigning to a life of unrelenting domesticity? Do you?" He reached for another Morley. "I think not. She is where she is free to work as she needs, without concern for in-laws or toilets," he finished with a snarl.

McConnell stepped up to the old man. "Is she being paid?" 

A snort. "Of course. There are reserves untapped that you know nothing of. That you begrudged her a few of the dollars she was bringing in to the Organization is what set you in this mess to begin with." 

'Charlie' crossed his arms. "But she was the one who suggested it! For the good of all, she said." 

The dark eyes regarded him sadly. "No one should be forced to make unnecessary sacrifices indefinitely. That is what you were asking of her, whether you realized it or not." 

The rotund man staggered to a nearby couch, then collapsed. "I thought she loved me. I thought she honestly loved me."

The old man stood over him. "She does. She misses you." He scribbled an address on a slip of paper he had pulled from his desk drawer. "As I said, no one should be forced to make unnecessary sacrifices indefinitely." 

'Charlie' stared at the white card dangling before him, but made no move to accept it. 

McConnell snorted. "What is that, a trap? Are you sending us to our deaths?"

A roll of dark eyes. "Don't over-inflate your importance. I could have you eliminated at any time. This offer is genuine."

'Charlie' reached out to rest his thick fingers on the letters, then dropped his hand. "Why are you giving me this now?" 

The old man recalled, suddenly and painfully, the sound of a woman's long-ago laughter amidst the ringing of crystal and China. "I have my reasons."

Slowly, 'Charlie' took the paper. "What do I owe you for this?" 

McConnell dragged him to his feet. "What do you mean? You're only doing what is right! She needs to be back with you and with us, not with him." 

After sending the red-haired man a disgusted frown, 'Charlie' looked to his former superior. "Am I to become your spy for this?" 

The Smoking Man shook his head. "No. Payment will be rendered at a time and in a manner of my choosing. You know the rules. Now, go."

As the door closed behind the pair, McConnell studied the address. "It was tough enough to get here, now we need to drive all the way to Calvert County?"

'Charlie' glared at him. "If you don't want to come, I understand. But I won't wait any longer to see her again. I don't care if I have to hitch up twelve mutts from the pound to a dogsled." 

McConnell dropped a hand to his shoulder. "No. Don't say that. Of course I'll drive you. I want you both to be happy."

\--o-0-o--

Tel El-Amarna  
El-Minya, Egypt  
Sunday, 5:01 pm

Max stopped shaking the screen when he spied Mulder, his wife, and Hiram approaching. "It looks like they've discovered something, Maudie." 

Margaret turned. "They look happy." 

The pair balanced the handles on the cone of sand, then hurried toward them. Max grasped his wife's arm. "What did you find?" 

She stood on tip-toe to kiss his cheek. "She was taken away by someone I knew from the Organization, Max. She's somewhere in the US, we feel certain." 

Mulder held up the box triumphantly. "There were some of her clothes, and a book she was reading at the time. I want to call Scully." 

Hiram stepped around him. "We can perform whatever tests need to be done, Mulder. You don't have to worry about getting them back to the States." 

Mulder's jaw set. "No offense, but we've had too much evidence disappear on us in the past. Scully and the Gunmen will know what to do." 

Margaret took off her gardening hat to fan herself. "But we've already excavated the bodies that were buried here." She pointed to a sad row of hastily assembled coffins. 

Hiram stepped forward. "We can take care of this from here, if you folks want to return to Cairo via truck. The sand's been cleared off the highway, so it should only take you a day or two to return to the coast." 

Mulder nodded. "But first, I talk to Scully."

\--o-0-o--

Office of the Lone Gunmen  
Alexandria, Virginia  
Sunday, 11:47 am

Frohike rolled out of bed when he heard the computer alarm go off. _What? Oh, man, it's Mulder._ "Hey, Langly, call Agent Scully!" He banged on his friend's door as he trundled past it, then down the stairs. Activating the text communications software, he typed hastily: "Hang on, Mulder, we're all bushed from moving." He waited. 

In the upper window, he read, "Oh, yeah, how did it go?" 

Frohike tapped out easily: "No sweat. Your new offices are clean. Dana dearest treated us all to pizza and beer afterward." 

"Ooh, Fro, you'll have to fill me in later. I need to talk to Scully." 

Frohike checked over his shoulder when Byers staggered through the door. "No can do, G-man. The streets are under a half an inch of ice. Trees are down everywhere. The city's at a stand-still." 

"Yeah. I can imagine. Well, at least call her. I have clothing that may have been Sam's I need her to run some tests on it." 

The round-faced man frowned as the keys clicked. "You're s***ting me, right?" 

"No way. If we can believe the chatty coot we got them from, an old friend of the family saw to it she was safe. I'll be driving back to Cairo with this stuff as soon as I finish here. At least there I can use the phone like a normal person, but it'll be Tuesday at the earliest before we can talk again. How do people live like this?" 

Frohike chuckled as he typed, "It worked for millennia, man. Chill and we'll sled-dog it to the Doc's, as Langly would say." 

"Yeah. Lat - "

Frohike sighed, turning to speak to the other Gunmen when they entered, Langly still with a phone on his ear. "We lost the satellite link. Can you reach Agent Scully?" 

The blond man shook his head. "No. But the phone lines may be out. Power's out across the area, too, so it may have hit her cellular provider." He checked his watch. "Do you think it's worth the effort to go over there?" 

Frohike nodded. "It's about Samantha." 

Byers rubbed his face. "Okay. I'll get the chains on, then. It’ll take a while, even with those."

\--o-0-o--

Apartment Complex  
Alexandria, Virginia  
Sunday, 1:34 pm

Byers and Langly watched from the front seats of the van as Frohike shoved the side entrance door of Scully's apartment building open. Thanks to the reflected light from the slick ice surface, they could also glimpse him banging ineffectually on her front door. After a couple of minutes, he worked his way gingerly back down the lawn to the street, stamping his cleated boots in the van’s tire tracks to clear them before he climbed in the rear. 

From the driver's seat, the bearded Gunman looked over his shoulder. "You don't suppose she went back to unpack after the pizza, do you?" 

Langly nodded. "That'd be the Doc. She probably expected to be able to get back via Metro, but with that closed today, she'll be there until tomorrow." 

Frohike leaned forward. "Gentlemen, we have a mission."

\--o-0-o--

FBI Washington Field Office  
K Street, Washington, DC  
Sunday, 5:02 pm

The three Gunmen shuffled outside the locked doors of the new office building, Byers with the tiny phone on his ear. "Nope, her cellular's still out." He looked to Langly. "Do you remember if the lines were hooked up in the office yet?" 

The blond man nodded. "Yes. I checked them for taps. It's their same old number." 

Frohike shook his head. "We have to get them to change it. Old habits die hard, I know, but it'll make them vulnerable." 

Byers pressed his hand against the glass as the buzzes sounded in his ear. He grinned when a sleepy 'Scully' came back to him. "Agent Scully? Are you in there?" 

A wry alto chuckle. "No Byers, I'm an alien clone. What brings you guys down to the Bureau on a Sunday?" 

The bearded Gunman sighed. "Who else?" 

The voice was all alertness. "He's found something? Wait right there." In a few minutes, she appeared in the entrance hall, still in her black jeans and dark grey sweatshirt from the previous day. After pushing the door open from the inside, she waved them toward her. "I'm surprised you three haven't figured out how to break in yet." 

Frohike stuck his chest out. "Ah, the Bureau needs to remain ignorant of our true talents, Agent Scully." 

A slight crease of one cheek, then she led them up the stairs to the third floor. "Sorry, the elevators aren't working today." 

They followed her to a thick steel door with a neat stack of collapsed boxes on the left and a cypher-lock on the right. After tapping out six different numbers, she pushed the barrier away, then stepped through. “This will be getting propped open once we’re settled in. With a secured entrance, and separate locks for each floor, it’s hardly necessary.” She sent a snort toward the illuminated box as the green bar on the top flipped back to red. 

Byers let out an astonished 'Ooh' at the arrangement of the interior. "Agent Scully, this is just like the office back at the Hoover Building." 

Rubbing the sides of her hips, she shook her head. "Not exactly. Cynthia will be sharing her workload with Gloria next door in Skinner's front office, but her desk is in here." She waved her hand in a circle at the anteroom space, the grey metal rectangle standing alone in the center. "Mulder's office is the same size as mine though." 

Frohike smirked. "I won't be the one to tell him that, will you?" 

She shrugged. "He still has two windows, while I only have one." She led them into her partner's quarters. "I hadn't intended to do this, but after we finished with dinner, I realized I'd forget which stacks went where on Mulder's table if I went home to sleep, so I came back here." She waved her arms at the interior. "I know I won't have everything just the way he left it, but we'll be a while settling in. Once I had his office done, it was just as easy to unpack mine."

Langly's eyes traveled over the "I Want to Believe" poster, the basketball, and the table, before they stopped at the padded chair. "Hey, you're having to prop this against the door. You won't be able to close it now." 

She crossed the room to grasp the padded back. "We rarely did at the Hoover building anyway. We can have the hinges moved to the other side of the frame if it becomes a problem." She clenched her fists. "You said Mulder has something on Samantha?" 

Frohike nodded. "Some clothing and personal possessions that need to be identified. He said an old friend of the family took her away before the hostage crisis became too heated." 

She dropped onto the Naugahyde. "The Smoking Man? But why? What would propel any of them to look out for her?"

Frohike leaned against Mulder's desk. "Concern for an old colleague?" 

She shook her head, a few wisps of darkened hair falling out of her ponytail. "No, those vipers would have sold each other out in a minute if they thought it was for the good of the Organization. There must have been something else." Rubbing her forehead, she lapsed into silence. 

Langly knelt beside her. "Is Kojak going to be next door all the time? The G-man's gorgeous enough, but Skinner, wow! How have you stood working for someone that good-looking all these years?" 

Scully raised her eyes to his. "What? It's bad enough I get almost-constant innuendoes about Mulder. But Director Skinner? I'd be thrown out of the Bureau for even contemplating such a thing." She leaned forward. "Langly, you've joked about him before. You're not - " 

The blond man rose stiffly. "Yeah, so what if I am? Agent Rosen's lifestyle didn't bother you." He began to cross his arms, then grunted in surprise when the auburn-haired pathologist scrambled off the cushions to hug him fiercely, if briefly. 

Flushing bright red, she collapsed on the stuffed chair. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that." She found her feet again. "But you've been tested, haven't you? You're okay?" She grasped both his wrists. "I've lost too many friends and family members, Langly, I don't want anything - " 

The blond Gunman gripped her shoulders. "I'm clean, Doc. But thanks for being concerned. Most people aren't so accepting." 

Frohike pushed his way in front of Langly. "Agent Scully, you need to go home and rest. We'll fill you in on what Mulder told us on the way." 

Scully found herself flushing again. "Yes. Of course." Heading back into her office, she shrugged into her coat. "I don't see how Mulder runs on so little sleep. I feel like I'm swimming through wool right now."

\--o-0-o--

Secured Residence  
Calvert County, Maryland  
Sunday, 6:01 pm

The four-wheel-drive vehicle was waved past the last checkpoint. McConnell glanced over at his his portly friend. "It looks like we were expected." 

'Charlie' nodded. "I think we were. I wonder how much of the Organization he controls now?" 

Once they had rolled to a halt outside the main entrance, McConnell turned off the engine. "I don't know, but I think 'Finn' and I should find out." He eyed the black frames that matched his own. "Good Luck."

'Charlie' sighed as he opened the door. "You too." He nodded to the guard who keyed in the code for his admission. Once inside, he called out, "Lisa? Are you here?" A blur of jeans and red sweatshirt, then he was flat on his back, smiling at the brunette curls above him. "Lisa?" 

'Ace' grinned. "It's me." She helped him to his feet. "Come see my computer set-up! I don't know where Black Lung gets the money for all this stuff, but I'm better-connected here than back at the Bureau, even." She shook the fingers she was clasping. "And he understands it all! He comes down here at least four times a week and we *talk*!" 

Trailing along behind, 'Charlie' bit his lip. _She's happier here than I've seen her in months. Do I want to take her away from all this? Am I worthy?_ He focused outside himself as she pointed toward the stacked grey computer cases for her new parallel- processor. 

'Ace' dropped his hand to wave both hers toward the blinking lights. "It all runs under Linux and it's faster than any of the Crays!"

\--o-0-o--

Apartment 5  
Alexandria, Virginia  
Tuesday, February 3, 1998  
6:12 pm

Dana Scully stepped gratefully out of her heels, then onto the cool tiles of her bathroom floor. She found she was looking forward to relaxing after another day in a cramped wooden chair at the courthouse. As she was drawing the water for a long, hot bath, she frowned. _The phone?_ Trotting into her living room, she confirmed that her portable was indeed, rattling madly on its stand. She lifted it to her ear. 

"I haven't caught you in the middle of being naked, wet, and hot, have I?" 

She beamed. "Call back in ten." 

"Ooh, a woman in black who gives orders." 

Her phone still pressed into her face, she sighed. "You okay, Mulder? It must be after one your time."

A grunt. "It is. We've just reached the Bureau field office in Cairo, which has the first secured phone line I've been able to find in this bass-ackwards excuse for a country. Scully, you'd love it. I drifted past more Pharaohs' tombs from the eighteenth dynasty than I care to count." 

Slipping out of her jacket, Scully chuckled. "Mulder, there weren't many Pharaohs in the eighteenth dynasty. The priests of Ammon wiped out nearly all official records of Akhenaten's existence. Besides, most of them were buried down in Thebes, not up where you were working." 

"Yeah, and you aced all your pop quizzes in school, didn't you?" 

She wriggled out of the thick tan skirt, hoping Mulder wouldn't hear the shifting of lining against slip or the soft plop as the weighted wool pockets hit the tiles. "Nope. Flunked every one. I was no good at thinking on my feet and choked. It hurt me in a couple of classes. Who's we? Is Mom there?" 

"Hum. *We* is your partner, who's appreciates the background noises, and Mister Dark and Mysterious Mossad Agent who thinks you're Diana Prince, thanks to your Mom. Mom and Max and Mrs. Scully have headed back to Santorini. All I need is for someone to come out and pick up this package I have, and, for you, dear Doctor, to carry on with your work."

She could imagine his lopsided grin spreading over his face. "Way ahead of you, Mulder. I've already talked it over with the Gunmen and Byers is dying for an excuse to see Vicky. He was ready to shoot Frohike if he tried to come in his place. Hang on." Tucking the unit under her chin, she slid out of the hose. "Okay - 

An amused rumble reached her. "Not just okay, Scully." 

She stomped her foot. "Mulder! Listen to me." 

The rumble stopped in a snort. "That's what I was *doing*, partner." 

She propped her hand on the sink. "All you need to do is drop by the American Embassy and ask for Vicky Nolan. She and Byers have already arranged the flight times, and she'll let you know. It was the only secure way to proceed." 

The grin sounded in his tone. "Great, and thanks. How was the move? Frohike said you were iced in?" 

She sank onto the toilet lid. "Yes, but it gave me the chance to unpack. Langly has a thing for Skinner, by the way. Did you know - "

"He was gay? Yeah. That's part of why Rosen didn't bother me. He's lost too many friends, Scully." 

"So have we, Mulder." 

A long pause. "Yeah. Well, I let you proceed in security yourself, all right?" 

She smiled again. "Thanks. Good to hear your voice, Mulder. Say hi to Mom and your folks for me when you return to Santorini." 

"I will. Bye." 

Scully ended the call, then, shaking her head, returned to her preparations for her bath.

\--o-0-o--

Cairo International Airport  
Cairo, Egypt  
Thursday, February 5, 1998  
6:26 pm

When the boarding door finally swung open, Mulder touched the arm of the statuesque brunette beside him. _I'll never understand how a dweeb like Byers landed a beauty like Vicky._ He waited for her quick nod. "I'll just be around the corner."

"Thank you, Agent Mulder." 

Once his back was turned, he heard a squeal of delight escape her. _Could it be?_ Shaking his head, he carried the carton of Samantha's belongings, each item protected by doubled plastic evidence bags, to the row of seats across the walkway. When a noisy group of Americans passed by, he slumped forward, slightly ashamed to be from the same country. Once they were well down the terminal, he checked his watch. _Yeah, I think it is._ Standing, he collected the box, then began the trek back to Byers' gate. When he spotted a stout, balding American in a grey suit and black glasses using the phone, he froze.

\--o-0-o--

Back at the gate, Byers kissed his wife one last time. "We'd better go find Mulder. Given all the conspiracy theories that float around this country, he's no doubt gotten himself wrapped up in some debate about Diana's 'assassination'."

Taking his hand, she nodded. "He's such a beanpole, John. Why doesn't he take better care of himself?" 

Byers chuckled. "Don't tell him. He's proud of that cinch waist of his." He waved. "Mulder!" 

The dark-haired agent waved the pair to his side. "Hey. Who does that look like?" He pointed at the telephone kiosk. 

Byers gasped. "That's Luther! What's he doing here?" 

Mulder was already tracking his way through the crowds when Byers finished, so he grasped his wife's hand firmly, then took off after his friend. 

Trotting, Vicky hissed, "Who's Luther?" 

Byers whispered back, "One of Mulder's quarry on the Dark Side. I'll tell you about it when we catch up to him." The pair finally rejoined Mulder just as the Agent was within arm's reach of the Shadow. 

Mulder thrust the box into Byers' hands, then tackled the man. The crowd parted as they wrestled for grips on each other's wrists, Mulder, with his youth and height, slowly gaining the advantage. When a security guard arrived, shouting for order, Byers' whispered, "He's FBI, arresting a suspect fleeing from America." 

Nodding, the guard joined the melee, but his efforts distracted Mulder long enough for the balding man to break free. Ignoring the shouting agent, the guard whipped out his weapon to aim it at the man's back. 

Mulder, in desperation, knocked the Glock to the ground. "No, don't. He's wearing a bullet-proof vest, so you wouldn't even slow him down and you might strike passers-by." 

The curly-haired man nodded. "My apologies. Shall we put out a warrant for him?" 

Mulder shook his head. "He has friends in high places. It's enough to know that he was here. I'll alert my people." 

Once the guard had disappeared, Byers handed Mulder the documentation. "Was he wearing a bullet-proof vest?" 

Mulder accepted the briefcase with a shrug. "Of course not. But not even here would they believe poisonous green blood, nor would they know how to treat anyone who was exposed." He shook his friend's hand. "Good to see you, man, but I have my own plane to catch." He nodded to Vicky, then melted into the crowds himself.

His arm around his wife's waist, Byers waved once at the departing back, then turned to leave with Vicky.

\--o-0-o--

Puffing, Luther collapsed in the passenger seat of the black sedan. "You were right, Mulder still thinks I'm a shape-shifter."

The driver lit a cigarette. "Good. His ignorance will only be to our advantage. Could you tell whom he and the woman from the State Department were meeting?" 

Luther gulped. "A bearded man in a grey suit. The State Department woman called him John." 

The old man nodded. "Byers, then. One of Mulder's three lunatic fringe friends. It will help reinforce Mulder's belief that you were a shape-shifter, since Byers last saw one using your form as well." 

Luther rubbed his face, his fingers pushing his glasses off his nose momentarily. "Forgive my ignorance, but why all this concern about who Mulder's friends are? Don't you already know this?" 

An arch of grey eyebrows. "Of course I do. I'm just trying to answer an old question in my mind." 

Luther strapped himself in. "About Bill Mulder?" 

The engine turned over. "Perhaps. Perhaps not." 

The balding man glanced at the driver sharply. "But Bill Mulder's dead. What could he possibly know that would harm you?" 

The old spy sighed. "My friend, you have so much to learn. Does the name Kovno mean anything to you, anything at all?" 

Luther shook his head. 

One set of yellow-tipped fingers gripped the wheel, while the other crushed a cigarette against the rest in an overflowing ashtray. "It was a ghetto in Poland to which the National Socialists deported many of the Jews of Austria, Germany, and Poland. While they were being exterminated, the residents were recording events and concealing photographs, names of executioners, names of Nazi collaborators, everything. Had the documents come to light at the end of the war, say, - " 

The bespectacled man nodded. "It would have been useful testimony at Nurenberg. I'm finally coming to understand why you speak in riddles so much of the time." 

The old man's face colored. "Not riddles, history. Remember the errors of others; avoid the pitfalls of the past." The dark eyes flicked to his passenger. "In this business, one chance is all a player gets, even if he's very clever."

Luther crossed his arms. "*Especially* if he's very clever." 

Since they were stopped for a clot of tourists, an orange light flared. "Indeed."

\--o-0-o--

Office of the Lone Gunmen  
Alexandria, Virginia  
Sunday, February 8, 1998  
5:38 am

Dana Scully tapped the enter key, initiating a call to the Mediterranean. After two rings, she heard a click. "Hey, it's me!" 

A rich baritone chuckle answered her. "Hello, Dana, this is Max. I bundled your difficult partner off to bed a couple of hours ago. Otherwise he would be sleeping here where he could keep an eye on Saunders' testimony." 

Scully sighed. "I'm sorry to hear that." 

"What, that he's being difficult, or that he isn't sleeping?" 

She leaned into the padded swivel back of the computer chair. "Both. This search for Sam is always a struggle for him." 

"Hum. And for Caroline as well. I'm coming to understand why they were so cold with each other when I first met her." 

Scully nodded, then held still, aware of the meaninglessness of the gesture. "Losing a daughter and a sister, especially like that, is hard." The next question startled her. 

"How are *you*, Dana? Are you getting enough rest? Are you eating regularly?" 

She frowned down at the speaker box. "I'm fine." 

"No. No, that won't do. I had to take care of Maudie while her leg was healing and Caroline with her burned arms. Now, my wife I could learn to read, but all I could ever deduce was to bring pain pills whenever I heard that phrase from your Mother." 

Scully arched both eyebrows. "A good night's sleep would be nice, Max, but I have too much to do. Pendrell's giving testimony for a trial in Pennsylvania all this week and next, so I couldn't ask for his help. Susan's running the DNA tests for me on the Samantha materials, but she sometimes needs technical assistance with the machines up at the Genome Lab in Hopkins Hospital." 

Max sighed. "So you drive to Baltimore and back what, once a week?" 

She shook her head. "I wish it were that infrequent. Try four nights a week. Will you stop worrying if I promise to come snooze in the sun at your place in Santorini after the trial finishes?" 

"Only if you keep your word, Dana. Killing yourself like this won't help Mulder or you." 

She rubbed her eyes, then yawned. "We'll see, Max. That's all I can promise." She propped both elbows on the table. "Look, I need Mulder and Caroline to do something for me." She smiled at the new voice emanating from the speaker. 

"Hey, Scully, thought you'd sneak around behind my back?" 

"Hey. Sounds like the radar's working just fine." She heard a creak that must have been Max relinquishing the seat to Mulder. "Thanks, Max." 

"Certainly, Dana." 

After a moment, a click of the door-latch told her they were alone. "Mulder, I need your DNA." Her lips twitched as she waited for the inevitable riposte. 

"Ooh, I should make you come out here and beg for it, Doctor." 

She smirked. "On my knees, I suppose." 

"That'd be a start." He sobered. "I'll see if the local police have a sampling kit I can Fed-Ex you. You want to compare mine and my Mom's against whatever you've pulled off Sam's clothes?" 

"Exactly. Hiram has sent me some bone fragments from the Silverbergs so we can determine whether they touched the books or shoes." She rubbed the back of her neck. "I don't know how to get them from the Morley Man. Skinner doesn't keep an ashtray and the room where he used to hide out and listen covertly has been sanitized." 

Mulder grunted. "It wasn't the Morley man who rescued her, Scully." 

She frowned. "But your Father never - "

"It was Deep Throat." 

She bit her lower lip momentarily. "Oh. So he goes back that far with your family. Well, we have some surveillance photos of him here at the Gunmen's. They'll come in handy when I find the time to interview with adoption agencies." 

"Yeah. Scully?" 

"Hum?" 

"You aren't taking care of yourself, are you?"

She attempted to waylay him with a jibe. "No, I leave that job to Frohike." 

"Don't." 

Propping her head up with her fist, she grunted. "Don't start in on me, Mulder. I promise to get some rest, soon. I'll see if Stone cares whether I nap occasionally in the defense conference room, okay?" 

"Not okay, Scully. Take the rest of the day off. You need it."

She sighed. "Mulder, I promise I'll kick back with the Sunday Post and some mulled cider this morning. But Susan has time on the machines this afternoon, so I'll be up there. Mail the kit to the Gunmen when you have the samples." 

"Right. Just relax a little, or I'll have to come back and make you." 

Her hand hovered over the keyboard. "Talk to you soon, Mulder, all right?" 

"Yeah. Bye." 

"He's right, you know, Doc." 

She spun. "Langly, how long have you been behind me?" 

The blond Gunman waved one hand. "Just for a couple of minutes. Let me get that mulled cider started. I'm sure the rest of the guys would enjoy some, too." He grasped her arm for a moment. "Come on. You'll relax if it kills you." 

Rolling her eyes in mock protest, she rose, then followed him.

\--o-0-o--

Lowenberg Residence  
Santorini, Greece  
Wednesday, February 18, 1998  
1:32 am

The shout from Mulder's bedroom sent a shiver down Caroline's spine. 

Max slid his arm under her head. "Caroline, dear, this is killing you. Go hold your son. He needs you." 

She clutched his ribs. "What do I say, Max? What do I do?" 

After sliding back the covers, he began easing her carefully off the mattress. "Just hold him. Tell him you love him." 

Her eyes wide, she nodded mutely while he slid her iridescent blue silk robe over her shoulders. 

Leaning around from behind her, he bussed her cheek. "Go." The cries from the distant bedroom tore at him as well. His stepson had experienced these abduction nightmares for several nights running, but each morning, despite the heavy lines on his face, had refused to discuss it with him. 

"Max?" Caroline was by the door. "I'm sorry for all this. I should have been a better mother to him." 

Grasping her elbow firmly, he guided her into the hall. "Just go. Remember, I love you." 

She nodded at his quick smile, then, with leaden feet, padded down the hall, one hand on the wall for support. 

Margaret Scully had been watching from her doorway. "Thank you, Max." The whisper was meant for his ears only. 

His bare soles felt the rough wool of the hall runner as he stood by the dark-haired woman. "They are both such sensitive people." 

Her arms crossed, Margaret's eyes were fixed on the older woman's back, willing her to take those final steps. "I know." She gazed up at the white-haired man. "Fox was there for Dana when she began remembering. How did he go through this alone for so many years?" 

Max sighed. "How did she?" Shifting behind Margaret, he leaned against the wall. "We were both so fortunate, Maudie. I had Thea to help me through these terrors." He nodded at her glance of realization. "Then there was my work, where I was able to make real progress, to actually place manuscripts and family portraits in the hands of survivors. All Mulder has known, except for the past year or so, was loss and failure."

She smiled at Max's chosen abbreviation of her name. "I know. It was hard enough to lose Bill, but at least we had all those years together. Then sweet-faced Mel, but she and I had reconciled." She waved at Caroline, who had turned back to both of them for support when they heard another cry. "But this, this is beyond me. To lose your family, to be homeless, that marriage, then to lose a daughter." 

Her hand on the doorknob, Caroline had frozen in place. "I can't." 

Max called softly, "You must." 

From within the room, they heard Mulder sobbing in his sleep, begging for answers. "Mom? Dad? Where are you? Where's Sam? Mom? Dad? Where is everyone?" 

Caroline jumped away from the door as if she had been shocked. "No! I can't!"

Margaret clenched her fists. "Enough." She brushed past the rigid white-haired woman, closing the door behind her. 

His undershirt darkened with sweat, Mulder was huddled in a corner, but looked around wildly when he heard the door open. "Scully?" 

Margaret knelt beside him. "One Scully, yes, Fox." 

He shrank back from her touch. "You heard me? Did they hear, too?" 

Margaret shifted to pin him between her and a dresser. "Of course, dear. It's okay, we understand." She grasped both his elbows, which were tightly pressed against his ribs. "Let us help you." 

His head moved feverishly from side to side. "No. I have to find Sam. Then everything will be okay. Mom won't hate me." 

The dark-haired woman twisted so she was sitting cross-legged before him. "Is that what you think, Fox, that she hates you?" 

He shrank against the cherry-stained walnut side. "No. She just doesn't love me." 

Margaret gasped. "Fox! Of course she loves you! This just terrifies her. She was outside your door just now, petrified." 

Mulder stared at Margaret. "Mom was out there?" He used the dresser to pull himself to his feet. "She was afraid?" He looked down at Margaret. "Of me?" 

Margaret shook her head. "Never of you. Just of what losing Sam did to you." When Mulder began pacing the room like an angry caged tiger, she found herself stumbling as she struggled to keep his face in view. "She doesn't know what to do to help. Don't you hate her, Fox." 

He froze. "She thinks I *hate* her?" He rushed to the door, yanking it aside to find Caroline huddled in her husband's arms. "Mom?" 

She pulled away from Max, pinning herself against the wall. 

Mulder took a step toward her. "Mom?" He found himself stammering, "Don't. Please. It wasn't your fault." 

She shook her head. "Then whose was it? I should have known better, Fox. I shouldn't have ever left you two alone." 

Mulder shrugged. "You couldn't keep a vigil constantly, Mom. I should have been stronger. I should have called the police, done something besides cower. You trusted me and I let you down." 

Caroline covered her mouth with her hand. _He believes Bill's monstrous lies!_ "No, Fox, never say that! Never!" She ran back into her room, slamming the door behind her. 

Mulder stared after her. "It's not her fault. It's mine." He sagged against the wall. "It was always mine." 

Max grasped his shoulder. "It wasn't yours either, Mulder. One day you will understand that. Excuse me." 

Mulder nodded. "Take care of Mom." He turned to walk past Margaret. "I need to check for Scully's latest message. Maybe the DNA analysis is finished." 

Margaret found herself alone in the hallway, watching while Max stepped into the bedroom, then spinning to catch a glimpse of Mulder just before he disappeared around the corner into the study. _These two! Dana, how did you ever learn to handle him?_

\--o-0-o--

Apartment 5  
Alexandria, Virginia  
Tuesday, February 17, 1998  
8:47 pm

Dana Scully dropped her keys on her bed, stepping out of her shoes as she tapped the shift key to activate her screen. The icon of a silver mailbox had turned blue, with a yellow letter stuck into the little image. 

Settling behind the desk in her bedroom, she clicked on the square, then smiled at the sender: George Hale. _Okay, Mulder, what do you have now?_

Scully:

Is the DNA work done yet? 

Call me the minute it is, 

Mulder

Scully frowned at the spare words on the screen. Usually her messages from her partner were voluminous, full of his latest suggestions to pass to the Gunmen for her. _Oh, Mulder, what's wrong now?_ Padding to the living room to retrieve her portable phone, she pressed the fourth auto-dial button as she settled under her down comforter. 

One ring. 

"Mulder." It was that sleepy, syrupy voice she recognized as just this side of frantic. 

She was pulling a report from her briefcase when she answered, "Mulder, it's me."

"Hey, me. What does me have?" His tone was marginally more relaxed. 

She flipped through several pages before she responded. "Well, not the DNA analysis, but the latest from the adoption agencies." She tapped the paper as she spoke. "There were several girls matching Sarah's age and description put up for adoption over those five years. I'll be forwarding this list to the Gunmen for them to follow up on, but I thought you might want to know." She could hear him fidgeting. 

"Any in San Diego?" 

She peered at the lines of text. "Hum, yes, three, all without given names in the records. I'll tell them to concentrate on those, but I want to check them all out carefully." 

"Scully! The report we followed up on back in February talked about the subjects being programmed to return to a given location, usually on the far side of the country from where they were originally taken. Sam, as an adult would likely..." 

She rubbed her eyes. "Mulder, I agree with you. As an adult, that's where she probably is. But, when she was adopted, she would have been raised wherever her adoptive parents lived. I'd prefer to follow this line of inquiry through the agencies first. Skinner can't commit any official resources to the case, so we can't begin interviewing every woman of the right age in San Diego to see if they were adopted." 

There was an explosion of air. "Yeah, you're right, Scully. We're just so close. Maybe we shouldn't be talking about this on the phone, you know?" 

Scully caught the winsomeness in his voice. "Oh. Well, then I should let you go." 

"No, tell me about the trial." 

She frowned. _There really is something wrong._ "There isn't much to tell. I've never known there could be such legal wrangling over a once-tried case. How was your day?" 

"Oh. It was okay." 

From his tone, she could imagine him folding in on himself. "Mulder? What's wrong?" 

She heard the chair he was using creak several times. "Remember that nice little speech about how Mothers are supposed to love you no matter what? Well, I think you gave it to the wrong person, Scully." 

She cradled the phone between her cheek and shoulder as she slipped the report back in her case. _Now we get to it._ "What happened? Tell me." 

He spoke in the hushed, closed-in tones he used when he was confessing something to her. "I've been having those dreams. About you. Or Sam. Sometimes I can't tell which one of you is being taken. It scared my Mom, and probably everyone else, too." 

"Oh, Mulder. I'm so sorry."

"I knew it was only a matter of time before I did. I just hoped..." There was a pause. "I just wanted things to be different, that's all. I shouldn't have bothered you with it." 

Suppressing a yawn, she straightened immediately. "No, that's okay. Please, call whenever, Mulder, I don't care about the time." 

"Oh, yeah, the time. Sculleee?"

She frowned at the pleading tone. "What is it, Mulder?"

"Do you, um, are you..." He gulped a couple of times, then mumbled a torrent of anguish, "Do you need my help with the trials? I could really come back now if you needed the help, and..." He stammered a few more words she didn't fully understand. 

Scully knew what her partner wanted her to say, but she also refused to give him anything but the truth. "Mulder, I'd love to have your help with the caseload, but your Mother and Max and my Mom don't have anyone to protect them out there. I'm sorry about the nightmares, really." She bit her lower lip momentarily, then dropped her voice to whisper, "I know how much they hurt." 

"Yeah. If anyone does, it's you." 

"Mulder?" 

A sigh. "I'll be all right, Scully. Thanks. Get some sleep, okay?" 

She lifted one corner of her mouth. "You try to, as well."

\--o-0-o--

Office of the Lone Gunmen  
Alexandria, Virginia  
Saturday, March 14, 1998  
9:23 am

When he pulled the door aside to admit her, Langly greeted Scully with his toothiest grin. "Hey, Doc, got a mystery for ya!" 

She rolled her eyes. "Another one?" 

Frohike emerged from the computer room carrying a stack of satellite images. "Lights over the desert, dearest Dana, how's that?" 

Taking some of the thick pages from him, she flipped through them. "Where did you get these?" 

Byers emerged from the kitchen, steaming mug in hand. "Here." While she sipped, he took a seat beside her on the couch. "The Defense Meteorological Satellite Program hits the equatorial areas of Africa every day with the satellites they have working." 

She cocked her head. "These are multi-frequency microwave images?" 

From the couch on the far wall, Langly called out an affirmative. "I'm sure Agent Rosen has reminded you that microwaves are produced anytime molecular bonds are broken." 

Scully cocked her head. "As in a forest fire, atomic explosions, engine exhaust, lightning. In short, anytime anything is heated." She regarded the images carefully. "Are you certain this isn't just hot ground? This is the equator, after all." 

Frohike shrugged. "That should repeat from day to day, but it doesn't."

Byers rubbed his beard. "One of the hopes of this satellite program was that it would permit detection of the engines of ICBMs, but they move too quickly for anything outside of continuous coverage."

She tapped one of the images. "You're about to tell me that these correlate with some of the pentagonal areas we located earlier, aren't you?" 

Byers waggled his hand. "Sort of. There may be one at the southern end of Sudan, close to the border of what is now the Democratic Republic of the Congo, the former Zaire. It's difficult to pick it out in that terrain." 

Scully tucked one ankle up under her hip. "So, how do we put together strange lights in the sky with possible research into human origins by the Consortium?" She sent mock-glares to all three men. "And don't say - "

Langly shrugged. "UFO monitoring." 

Frohike snorted. "She told you not to say that." He focused back on Scully. "You don't look upset, Dana." 

She spread the images across the coffee table. "Oh, not UFO's, but the shape-shifters would definitely be interested. I'm glad you showed these to me first, *before* you sent them to my partner." She waggled one sheet. "This will be good ammunition for rounds and rounds of E-mails. By the way, did Mulder ever tell you about our encounter with the shape-shifters in Pittsburgh?" 

The three leaned a little closer. 

She arched one auburn brow. "I suppose not. Well..."

\--o-0-o--

Center for Inherited Disease Research  
The Johns Hopkins Hospital  
Baltimore, Maryland  
Sunday, March 15, 1998  
7:34 am

Dana Scully smiled at the medical students working quietly as she entered the half-empty lab. Since the facility was new, the interior was occupied mostly by the DNA analysis machines, a few lab benches and stools, and a filing cabinet or two. _So different from the jam-packed Bureau labs. But in a few years..._ One, a tiny blonde girl, waved her over. "Doctor Scully!"

Rubbing her face, the auburn-haired agent joined the huddled group. "Yes? Where's Susan?" 

The medical student pushed her glasses back up her nose. "Oh, she's had some bad news, so she won't be working here today. She said to let you know that she'll be in her office when you arrive." 

"Thanks. Don't stop studying on my account." Frowning, Scully trotted out of the lab, then to the elevators.

\--o-0-o--

"Sue?"

The shapely blonde, looking relaxed in her jeans and thick wool sweater, waved her in. "Hi, Dana." 

Scully stacked her load of documents and notes on the desk in front of her, then slid into a square-legged chair. "What's your bad news?" 

Susan Miles stood, walked around the desk, then half-sat on the front of it. "My NIH grants were terminated as of the first of April, Dana. I'm going to have to scramble to come up with the money to cover my salary and my student's stipends." 

Scully straightened. "Did they say why?" 

Susan reached for an official-looking letter, her eyes dropping to a block of lines in bold type. "While your research is of great practical significance, your work on tropical plant drugs is no longer sufficiently state of the art to justify this institution's continued sponsorship. We respectfully suggest you consider affiliating yourself with a major commercial manufacturer if you wish to pursue this work further." She balled the piece of paper up, then tossed it at a framed print of one of Georgia O'Keefe's flowers. "I can't go work for private industry, Dana, you know that."

Scully reached over to grasp her wrist in sympathy. "So, have you thought about what to do?" 

Susan dropped into the tall chair behind her desk. "Would I have thought of anything else?" After pushing her pen around idly, she raised her blue eyes to Scully's. "There is one thing I have that is 'state of the art,' if you'd agree to let me use it." 

The agent tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "The Archaeon? With the new initiative on Life in Extreme Conditions, it would be a natural avenue to pursue." 

Susan sighed. "Yes, I didn't know if you'd mind or not." 

Scully arched both eyebrows. "Mind? After all you've done for us? Susan, there's no question that you can use it." 

The blonde doctor smiled for the first time. "Good. You'll be interested to know that while it has some of the same genes as Methanococcus jannaschii, it's significantly different, too." She sobered. "I have some bad news for you on another front..." 

Scully sighed. "What, the dress had been handled by so many people that you couldn't get anything off it?" 

"Unfortunately, yes. Clothing can be tricky like that. I hope your friend Pendrell is having more luck with the shoes." 

Scully shook her head. "Only one shoe. The Gunmen have secreted the other shoe and the book. Pendrell said he had pulled a few cells from the inside lining. He was working late today so I could stop by when I was finished here." 

Susan smiled. "Then you'll have the chance to work a little closer to home on at least one Sunday." Reaching into the bottom drawer of her desk, she removed the dress, encased by the plastic evidence bag Scully had brought it to her in. "I take it you won't need the DNA from Mulder and his Mom back." 

Smoothing the plastic over her lap, Scully nodded. "I won't. Pendrell has his own samples and we have the rest tucked away." 

Susan rose. "Then I won't keep you any longer." As they walked into her outer office, Scully looked up at her friend. "Sue, if there's anything I can do to help, just give me a buzz." 

Stopping by a stack of boxes, the blonde physician bent. "Thanks. These are your reprints, if you want them." 

Scully shifted the stack of reference material she had brought with her. "I'll take one now, and have the rest mailed to my apartment. Obviously, I can't get them all." 

Susan wedged one box under Scully's chin, then shook her head. "I can at least walk you to your car, Dana, so you don't have to worry with all that." 

Shifting some of her burdens to her friend's outstretched hands, Scully smiled. _I don't understand how Mulder worked on his own for so many years._

\--o-0-o--

DNA Lab  
J. Edgar Hoover Building  
Washington, DC  
Sunday, 8:21 pm

From his lab stool opposite hers, Arthur Pendrell checked his friend, her auburn hair falling free around her face. _There's that pinched look again._ "What is it, Dana?" 

She looked over at him. "Hum?" 

Pendrell walked around the lab bench to her side. "You've been frowning. Is there something wrong with the test?" 

She caught the waving strands back up in her elastic band. "No. I'm just tired." She attempted a tiny, uneven grin. "I'll be fine. We have work to do." 

Bending over her, Pendrell rested one hand on the lab bench. "Yes, and you've been doing it since before Terry and I got here at ten. How far along are you?" 

Scully set a vial of clear liquid in a rack with forty others. "I think I've duplicated those cells you had properly. Mulder has always implied Sam was such a little lady she never went without her socks. I'm surprised you were able to find anything at all." 

Moving until he was behind her, Pendrell grinned. "I take it your Mom had trouble with you?" 

Scully crossed her arms. "Tomboys don't make good little ladies, Arthur."

He chuckled. "I wouldn't know about that." A creak of the lab door had him shifting away from her. "Hey, Sweetheart, what do you have?" 

Terry Phillips, rubbing her left eye where the contact had irritated it, crossed to meet him in the center of the lab. "Here are the mtDNA patterns from Caroline and Mulder." She gripped the Mylar sheet in her hand more tightly. "I was wondering how the work on the shoe was coming." 

Beaming, Pendrell tucked her under his arm. "Scully's finished the replication phase. We can test for any chromosomal similarities now." 

Scully watched the pair as they spoke. Pendrell's blue eyes had taken on an intensely pure delight he had never exhibited when focused on her, devolving into fear and uncertainty instead. Deep inside her, the auburn-haired pathologist felt a twinge of regret, then pushed it away, letting her happiness for her friends replace it. "How long will that take?" 

Pendrell looked up. "Hum?" He stepped away from Phillips. "Oh, since we can only work on it after hours, a couple of days. Now that you won't have to run up to Baltimore once court finishes every session, it will go faster. You *will* be helping us, right?"

Scully nodded. "Of course." 

Pendrell has returned to the diminutive agent's side now. "This is about all we can do on the testing tonight. Want to share an Armand's with us?" 

The quick glare Phillips shot the back of Pendrell's curls had Scully shaking her head. "No, a soak and my own bed are all I want right now, thanks." She caught the slight smile that the brunette covered with her hand. 

Oblivious, Pendrell nodded. "See you tomorrow, then."

\--o-0-o--

Capitol Hill Rowhouse  
Washington, DC  
Wednesday, March 18, 1998  
7:21 pm

Lindhauer closed the door behind 'Ace' and 'Charlie'. Glancing at McConnell for support, he took a deep breath. "It's been too long since we were all together like this." 

As she settled on Lindhauer's sofa, 'Ace' nodded. "I know. I'm sorry about my harsh words earlier. The work is all that's important." 

McConnell pushed his red curls off his forehead. "It doesn't matter now. We're working together again, which is what counts. Now, there's this business with Mulder and his sister - " He turned to Lindhauer. 

The blond man glared down his long nose at his red-haired associate, then faced 'Ace' and 'Charlie'. "Should we let Mulder find her?" 

'Ace' shrugged. "If he does, there will be a certain period of time when he'll be attempting to reconnect with her." 

'Charlie' leaned toward his lover. "And you expect he'll be less interested in keeping tabs on our efforts?" 

She nodded. "Of course. Besides, if she begins to remember what happened to her, it will only be what they already know. With all the old routes and facilities shut down, they'll be chasing a closed chapter in our history as an organization." 

All four looked to the front door at three sharp raps. 

Lindhauer checked out the peephole. "It's Black Lung." 

'Charlie' stood, blocking 'Ace' from the entrance. "What does he want?" 

His head cocked, Lindhauer threw back the deadbolt, then was shoved aside when the door flew off its hinges. 

The Smoking Man marched in, three others in black behind him, Luther filing in last. 

At the sight of the balding man, McConnell began scrambling for a gun. "You brought a shape-shifter in here? Why?" 

The old man snorted. "What makes you think he's an alien?" He pointed the cigarette at the bespectacled man. "Luther, show them." 

Retrieving a pocketknife, the operative slit his finger, the dark blood dripping into the white fibers of the carpet. "I'm as human as any of you are." 

'Charlie' helped Lindhauer back to his feet. "So, why are you here?" He glared at the old spy.

A snort. "I thought we all worked for the same goal, at least at one time." 

Still feeling slightly wobbly, Lindhauer crossed his arms. "You don't work for anyone. You're a rogue." 

The three men in dark suits pointed silencer-equipped Glocks at the pair on the couch. 

The old spy shook his head. "I don't think that's how they see it." He stepped up to Lindhauer. "You should be familiar with what's happening here. You've been through it before, only from the other end." 

The ice-blue eyes narrowed. "You think you're taking over, don't you?" 

A thick stream of smoke hovered in front of the wrinkled face. "My. You still *can* reason from observation. Good. If you had been keeping track of your organization, you would have noticed its numbers dwindling slowly." He tapped the ash onto the carpet. "One thing I can say for you, you have come up with some fresh sources of money." He bowed to 'Ace'. "Thank you, most gracious Amanda. But this business with the trials has gone too far. One in distant Pittsburgh the Organization could deal with. But here in Washington, DC? You give too much hope to our enemies." 

McConnell crossed his arms. "So, what would you do?" 

Several long drags before he replied, "It isn't what I'm going to do, it's what *you're* going to do that matters now. What do you intend to do about this second trial?" 

'Charlie' rose. "We have a plan." 

A snort. "Odd. That's what my old colleagues in New York were saying before you oh-so-politely blew them to the stars or ran them down like rabid animals." Dropping the spent butt into the plush pile, he tamped it out by grinding on it with his heel. "Whichever of you eliminated my old superior with all his mannerisms and affectations has my sincere gratitude." 

Lindhauer's grin was sinister. "It gave me a great deal of pleasure to finish him off. I was tired of bringing him tea and crumpets." 

A sigh. "I'm saddened to hear that from one so young. Killing is a serious business. It should never be undertaken with pleasure, only with a grim sense of necessity." 

The blond man bent over the Smoker. "Oh? It wasn't a pleasure for you to order the killing of the man who had stolen your one true love?" 

The dark eyes cooled into glaciers. "It most certainly was not. Bill Mulder was an old and dear friend, who had stepped out of the game before he became a danger to himself and others." 

Now 'Ace' rose. "You always taught us there should be no entanglements when we enter this sphere." 

The old man ran his fingertips along her jaw. "A lesson you chose to ignore, my dear." He dropped his hand in his suit pocket. "Very well. I'll give you all a second chance. Do what you must to stop these trials, then we'll talk. If you succeed, there are places for you all in my plans. If not, we will have to explore other options." A shrug, then the four behind him began filing out. "Good evening." 

Lindhauer turned to 'Charlie'. "What did you have in mind for the trial?" 

The heavy-set man dropped his hand to 'Ace''s back. "You'll see. We should go. You have a door to repair before the local thieves relieve you of your stereo." 

After the pair had departed, McConnell grasped Lindhauer's shoulder. "I'll stay and help you board the door up. You can still use the basement to come and go, right?" 

Lindhauer nodded. "Thanks."

\--o-0-o--

Apartment 5  
Alexandria, Virginia  
Thursday, March 19, 1998  
9:27 pm

Dana Scully reviewed the letter she had just typed into her word processor, wondering whether to keep it, delete it, or E-mail it to her partner. Mulder seemed absurdly happy every time she sent him one of these little stream of consciousness notes, despite their spelling errors and awkward phrasing.

"Mulder,

"I have to tell you, you were certainly right, back after Tooms. Trials are a real bear. Sorry, that was just before Phoebe. Sorry again. I seem to be able to do nothing but dredge up bad memories of old cases. This prosecution team isn't nearly as good as Pollack and his crew, which is a little sad because it is a double First Degree Murder case. Since the Prosecution failed to convict before, it seems odd that they would up the ante so, just for Tyrell Saunders. (It seems strange that your contact has a name, after all these times of using X for him.) But regardless, I'm not looking forward to having to give my testimony all over again when Stone begins the case for the defense in a couple of weeks. 

"You, for some reason, are such a terror that the prosecutors informed Stone, before even beginning their case, that you were pointedly not going to be called to testify. Stone protested loud and long (and you know how dramatically he can draw something like this out) that it was a violation of Saunders' constitutional right to confront the witnesses against him not to have you extradited. He tried to introduce your testimony from Pittsburgh as a defense exhibit, but the judge informed him the Commonwealth had its own procedures, which this trial would be following. Knowing our luck, the appeals court will throw the trial out, if it concludes, and we'll be here all over again.

"It's been, what, eight weeks now? I don't know if you've noticed this, but we've fallen back into the habits we followed after the X-Files were shut down the first time, after Deep Throat was killed. Our messages are so much more interesting than anything else going on. I find I'm racing home from the Courthouse at lunchtime to see if you're sending me any new evidence you want me to analyze. Sorry, didn't mean to bring up more bad memories.

"Just to let you know. Susan's up to her eyeballs with funding reviews (real people who live from grant to grant have to worry about such trivia, you know), so she won't be able to help us for a while. You've run the Gunmen ragged with the geographical searches. Danny will only talk to you. So, I've had Pendrell (yes, my own pet lab-mouse, as you *so* like to call him) run the DNA that was taken from one of the shoes you and your Mom were given. They (Pendrell and Phillips, who are now a *very* happy couple) managed to pull a few cells from it, even to get a reasonable mitochondrial sample. Comparing it to yours and your Mom's, well, the cells belong to a daughter of hers and a sister of yours. So, it looks like you're (do I dare say we're?) really on the right track this time. 

"I don't think I need to write this, but I so hope this pans out. You and your Mom deserve to get her back, after all you've both been through. 

"I've read over what I've just written. Don't take that the wrong way, Mulder, I wish she had never been taken, I'm not saying that you needed to suffer to get her back. 

"About that trial. It's good you're not there. You'd be going out of your mind with boredom. Oh. That makes it sound like I don't want you here. I do, want you here, that is, just not in the courtroom. I miss our lunches together. Although some of those doodles of yours, the non-X-rated ones (yes, I saw those, too) were getting pretty interesting. Artistic even. 

"Sorry, it's late. I'm more tired than I ever thought I could be, and I'm rambling. More tomorrow. Say hi to Mom, Caroline, and Max for me. I hope this is over soon. 

Scully"

She chewed her lower lip. _Well, it'll only be good for blackmail when I'm 85 anyway._ She clicked on the enrypt button, then, when the little knot icon stopped spinning, moved the pointer to the button with the bolt of lightening. _Enjoy, partner._

\--o-0-o--

End - Zurvan - Chapter VII - A Visit with Zeus-Ammon


	8. Annwn

\-----o-------------------------------------------------o-----

Chapter VIII - Annwn

\-----o-------------------------------------------------o-----

"Now they were put inside Bat House, with bats alone inside   
the house, a house of snatch-bats, monstrous beasts, their   
snouts like knives, the instruments of death. To come before   
these is to be finished off at once. 

When they were inside they just slept in their blowgun;   
they were not bitten by the members of the household. But   
this is where they gave one of themselves up because of a   
snatch-bat that came down, he came along just as one of   
them showed himself. They did it because it was actually   
what they were asking for, what they had in mind. 

And all night the bats are making noise... 

Then it let up a little. The bats were no longer moving   
around. So there, one of the boys crawled to the end of the   
blowgun, since Xbalanque said: 

'Hunahpu? Can you see how long it is till dawn?' 

'Well, perhaps I should look to see how long it is,' he   
replied. So he kept trying to look out the muzzle of the   
blowgun, he tried to see the dawn." 

excerpted from "Popol Vuh"  
translated by Dennis Tedlock

\-----o-------------------------------------------------o-----

Alexandria Courthouse   
Alexandria, Virginia   
Friday, March 20, 1998   
8:23 am 

When she heard approaching footsteps, Dana Scully looked up from the folder she was examining. "Good morning, Sir." 

Walter Skinner nodded once. "Senator Matheson called last night to arrange a meeting today." 

Closing the pages, she rose. "Thank you for informing me, Sir." 

He glanced over his shoulder before he bent over her. "How is the investigation into Agent Mulder's sister's location proceeding?" 

Finishing the last of the coffee from the orange and tan paper cup, Scully squared her shoulders. "We have four candidates, Sir, whose whereabouts at present we continue to pursue. How is Cynthia?"

Skinner stepped aside as the bailiff arrived to unlock the glass doors. "Full of complaints about her chemistry homework. She's a little afraid to approach Agent Pendrell for help." 

One auburn eyebrow arched at the thought that anyone would be intimidated by the most helpful of the scientists in the lab. "I'll have to speak to her, Sir. She doesn't have me or Agent Rosen to ask questions of anymore." She began collecting her papers to slide them into her briefcase. "Please keep me informed if there's anything new from Senator Matheson, Sir. I believe Agent Mulder could use the distraction." 

"I feel certain he could, Scully." Another nod, then the Assistant Director stepped away. 

After the quick ascent to the Fourth Floor, Scully wound her way down the corridors to the courtroom they had been assigned. _Maybe I'll have a few minutes to go over these adoption records before Stone arrives._ Spreading her papers across the defense table, she began cross-checking her notes. Her knee bumped against a turned knob on the nearest leg, making her realize that it was not the same as the furniture in the other courtrooms. This, as well as the mate across the aisle for the prosecutor, were antiques, almost as ornately carved as Max's desk in Miami. Before returning to her work, she concluded it must have been brought in to impress the unusually large crush of visitors, mostly hangers-on and thrill-seekers, but among them members of the media. Lost in her reading, she failed to hear the long strides coming to a halt behind her.

A tap on her shoulder brought her attention upward. "G'mornin', Dah-na Katherine." 

She broke into a wide smile. "Is it time for court already? Let me just clear this up." 

The towering attorney settled beside her. "No hurry. We still have a few minutes. Anything new?" 

Scully shook her head. "Not really. Mulder's getting anxious, I can tell." 

Stone plopped his briefcase into the spot she had just cleared. "After twenty-five years, I'd be anxious too." He smiled over at her. "Now, ah may have said this before, but that boy must have some Cajun in him from way back. He sure suffers like he's from my neck of the woods." 

Scully let out a silent snort. "Stone, I thought your family had money from years ago." 

He flicked his long fingers dismissively. "Had it, lost it, got it back again. And please, use Jarred. We've been shackled together long enough to use first names." 

She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "Okay. I'm just so used to Scully it hardly seems Dana exists at times." Since the courtroom was filling up, they resumed their usual seats, Stone closest to the aisle, Scully in the first row just behind him. 

His black suit impeccably smooth, Saunders entered from the back doors escorted by two Bureau agents, who nodded to Scully, then stepped away. She knew they would take up positions on either side of the rear entrance, watching and waiting. The high space filled with noises otherwise associated with the preparations for a concert or play, papers shuffling, coughs, whispers, creaks. 

Scully slid her documents away. _That's what this has become. A performance. As choreographed as anything by Martha Graeme._ At the bailiff's call, all rose, all eyes following the slight woman climbing to the high seat of justice. 

Scully recalled her surprise when she learned that the Judge Rivers who would be presiding was Karen, not Mary. The sisters were two years apart, but had taken different trajectories in their careers. Both had excelled in law school, graduating at the top of their respective classes. But, the misogyny Mary had escaped, through the sheer good fortune of a clerkship under Thurgood Marshall, had ensnared Karen, keeping her from rising to the Federal Bench. Instead, she had chosen, like her distant Lee relative, to serve her home state when she returned to practicing law after raising her three sons. A slot had materialized almost magically at the time, courtesy of Governor Linwood Holton. This was to be her last case. Scully wondered if Fate was finally on their side, since only a extraordinary event would keep Tyrell Saunders from becoming a free man. _But where would he go?_

\--o-0-o--

Judge Rivers raised her gavel to bring the court to order. But the session never began. As the flat end of the ornate mallet head struck the marble surface, it depressed a detonator wired to plastic explosives secreted into the bench. A shout rang out from the back of the courtroom, fear sending the audience running for the exit. As chunks of concrete and steel rolled around the demolished dais, Scully struggled forward, calling futilely for the white-haired woman. Twin explosions from the side walls sent debris peppering those still in front of the room.

"Agent Scully!" Saunders dove for her, dragging her back under the heavy walnut table reserved for the defense attorney. 

Scully wriggled free. "I have to check Judge Rivers." 

Saunders grasped her wrists. "There's nothing to check, Agent Scully. You should have known better than to think we could have succeeded twice." 

Scully snarled as a shower of debris rained down on the double-thick top, "But this is a court of law! How do they think they can get away with this?" 

Saunders sat back on his heels. "They already have. Never underestimate the power of the almighty dollar, Scully." 

"Dayhna?"

Both looked down, the gestures instinctive despite the fast darkness in the rubble. 

Stone bit his thin lower lip. "Ye'all mind givin' me a hand here? Ah'm not quite as compact as you." 

Scully reached for his knees, only to grunt in surprise as a roof beam settled onto the front of the table, collapsing the thick legs. The frame under the tabletop pinned her hands on Stone's calves, all under a massive weight of concrete. 

Saunders was casting about in the blackness for a brace. 

Scully found she was hissing through clenched teeth, "Get help." 

Stone gasped, "Please." 

A fourth explosion brought the rest of the roof down on the still-clearing audience chamber, further entombing them. The four stories of the sprawling legal complex were now a flattened heap of rubble, leaving Scully wondering how many others were trapped as they were.

Saunders grunted, "I think not, Scully." He tugged one of the broken table legs free of the debris, observing that the work of the carvers to align the fluting had created a perfectly symmetric piece of kindling. 

Scully swallowed. "Sto - Jarred, can you feel your legs?" 

He answered first with a gurgling chuckle. "Put your mahnd at rest on that point, Dahy-na. Mah shanks are shout'n mighty strong. Ah maht say they're kickin' up quite a ruckus." 

Saunders shifted around Scully. "You southern gentlemen are all alike. You talk too much." He began wedging the walnut by Stone's feet. "'Hurts like hell' would be a conservation of breath." 

Stone clucked, "Now, Tyrell, there are ladies present." 

Scully twisted to follow Saunders' voice. "I've heard far worse, Jarred." She bumped Saunders on the shoulder with her chin. "How are you coming?" 

Saunders grunted, then froze as a trickle of debris rolled down the table-top. 

Scully bent closer, ignoring the twin protests shooting up her arms. "Saunders?" 

"Almost there. Can you feel both of Stone's feet?" 

Perspiration beaded on her forehead as she rotated her hands down to Stone's ankles. "I can't reach that far." 

Jarred huffed softly, "Set yore minds at ease. Them gators are free to wiggle." 

Scully shifted for a firmer grasp on his calves. "Whenever you can, Saunders, I'll slide him in." 

Saunders moved to gain what purchase he could. "On the count of three, then. I expect we'll only have one shot at this. You two ready?" 

Scully set her jaw. "Ready." 

Stone grunted, "And waiting." 

"One, two, three!" Saunders shoved, easing the crushing load momentarily. 

Scully and Stone moved together, pulling his feet under the table frame just as the leg splintered. 

Scully shook her arms to restore feeling to them, then began probing Stone's right calf. 

He sighed. "Ah think it's safe to say Muldah will have quite the advantage at basketball for a while. Ow." 

Scully bit her lower lip momentarily before she offered her diagnosis. "I think so. Your right tibia is fractured in two places, Jarred." She shifted to continue her explorations. "But your left leg is whole. And I don't feel any throbbing, so I don't believe there's any internal hemorrhaging. Jarred?" She reached up to pat his cheek. "Stay with me. We'll have help soon." She relaxed marginally when she felt his long, spongy fingers curl around her wrist. 

He sighed. "Where's this blood comin' from, then?" 

She pulled her hands back to fumble in the debris for her longcoat. It ripped as she tore it free of a steel beam, but there was enough for her to cover him with. "Don't worry about that. It isn't yours." 

Saunders had crawled so close to her that she bumped him when she slid away from Stone. "Listen, you two." 

All three waited until they heard faint cries for help. 

Scully began pushing at the debris. "That sounds like the prosecution table. They must have been trapped the way we were." 

Saunders wrapped his arms around her waist. "No, Scully, listen! Beyond that!" 

She wriggled fiercely. "I'm a doctor! I need to reach them before it's too late!" She was pushing on him, her right hand slippery from her own blood. Struggling free, she forced her way toward the prosecution table, where she encountered a still, cooling shape, half in and half out of the rubble. "He didn't make it!" She turned. "Saunders! Stone! How many prosecutors were here today? All three?" 

Saunders was feeling for her, groping in the total blackness. "Scully! Agent Scully! It doesn't matter! Get back here!" 

She heard a faint cry, then a soft pop, then, silence. _Assassins! Here? But who?_ When her forehead contacted a torn rod of steel rebar, she set her teeth against the pain. A sharp edge had sliced a cut over her left eye as she fumbled for her briefcase. She bit her lip to keep from muttering an oath when she remembered that, like all court participants, she had turned her weapon over before passing through the metal detectors on the first floor. _Outside of the sheriffs, only those two agents from the Bureau had guns._ She felt a single hand land on her shoulder, then permitted herself to be tugged back into their hiding place. 

Once she was huddled under the protection of the table-top, she let Saunders move close to her before she whispered, "Who are they?"

His lips hovered by her ear. "You know better than to ask, Scully. They're looking for me." 

Realizing any attempt to staunch the flow of blood would make noise, she simply pulled their one-time contact's ear around to her mouth. "We can't be sure of that." 

He shifted. "They are." His certainty was chilling. 

When he began slipping silently away, she pulled him back. "If you go out there, they'll kill you." 

"If I remain, they'll kill you, him, and me. One or three." 

Had there been even the barest illumination, he would have seen her eyes blazing . "I won't agree. We'll find another way." 

"No!" Even the voiceless word packed a punch. "Remain with your patient!" 

Her wet hand faltered in its grip, giving Saunders the escape he sought. 

As rubble shook loose in his wake, Scully covered Stone's head with her arms and torso. 

The towering attorney, stretched the length of the table, was biting his lower lip to keep from crying out. 

Scully began stroking his hair and beard, hoping the contact would soothe him while they waited. 

One voice sounded in the darkness, "Did you hear which way he went?" 

Scully shuddered, suddenly afraid their argument had delayed Saunders so long they would catch him. 

Stone, misreading the emotion prompting the action as fear rather than self-contempt, wrapped one arm around her waist, pulling her close. 

A second voice answered, "No. Sound ricochets everywhere with all this rubble." Then he called loudly. "Hello? Anybody there?" 

"Here." The thin cry was answered with a pop. 

Scully clenched the hand not brushing dust from Stone's short hair into a fist. _My SIG! I need a weapon!_ Feeling around her, she lifted a quarter of the leg Saunders had used for a brace off what had once been grey industrial carpeting. 

The first voice called out, "It wasn't him." 

Voice two responded. "Like he would answer our summons. We have to find him. Where do you think the defense bench was?" 

Scully heard a click, then a thin shaft of light pierced the debris, scattering across the grey concrete. 

Voice one carried an undertone of amusement, "Was is right. If he's in there, he's gone." 

Voice two chided, "With him, never assume anything. We need to take back positive visual identification. I'm going in there. I think I see a way through the rubble." The man began pulling himself through the debris, hand over hand, the spot flash in his teeth. 

Scully could tell the flickers were glowing brighter, giving her a sense of just how confined they were. She had struggled toward the opposing bench through a tiny crawl space, no more than ten inches high. The light came from a crooked tube leaning back toward the exit and freedom, tall enough just beside the table for a man to crouch, then aim a weapon. Stone's long legs were visible from the opening, but if she pressed herself up by his head, she would be concealed. It was, she knew, their only chance.

\--o-0-o--

Lowenberg Residence  
Santorini, Greece  
Friday, 6:16 pm

Max knocked once before querying the occupant of his enclosed porch, "Mulder?" 

Raising his eyes from the documents he had strewn across the flagstones, Mulder slipped off his glasses before climbing to his feet. Opening the knotty pine door, he pointed his chin in a quick greeting. "Is it here yet?" 

As he entered, Max waved a piece of paper at him. "Just came through." 

Mulder scanned the message quickly, smiling at his partner's protestations before he looked over to Max. "We'll need to tell Mom. The DNA tests confirm that Sarah Silverberg was Sam." Chewing his lower lip, he blinked back the torrent of relief and awe he suddenly felt.

After grasping the agent's shoulder as a silent offer of his support, the white-haired man knelt by a mosaic of photos Mulder had assembled. "So, you think these are the culprits?" He pointed. "This is the fellow with the Morleys that you and your Mother know so well?" He tapped the dark image, a frame from a security camera that showed a face half-obscured by shadows, a white cylinder pinched between thumb and forefinger. "He didn't visit the Firm, I'm certain of that." 

Mulder sank to the floor, crossing his long legs in front of him. "That's good. According to Mom, he was a fairly decent guy during the War. I wonder what warped him so?" 

After turning a green canvas chair away from the windows. Max eased himself into it. "Sorry, my back's not as limber as yours, Mulder." He rested his arms on his knees, as he peered intently at the other faces. "I recognize most of these, including that sad fellow." He lifted a folder from the stack closest to the chair. "Do any of these old reports from Egypt make sense to you?" 

Mulder shrugged. "According to Scully, they show identical camps to the leper facility she visited. So, it seems there were duplicate tests being conducted in several places in the world, here," he explained as he tapped a map of the upper Nile, "the Congo, the Outback, on Taiwan." The younger man stood, pacing. "I have a hunch that these facilities were all controlled by different secret organizations, governments within governments, so to speak." 

Max nodded. "And something has happened that has unbalanced them all, something to do with the strange events this past December and January." 

Both men looked over when Margaret Scully appeared in the doorway. "You two and Caroline, all you do is work. Dinner's ready, whenever you three can tear yourselves away." 

Mulder smiled in response. "What? Is Mom still banging away on those security codes?" 

Margaret shrugged. "She's as bad as Dana with a puzzle." 

Max stood. "We'll be right there." He crossed the room to flick on a large TV. "I just want to check CNN." The two men waited through a series of cloyingly whiny car advertisements, then the words "Breaking News" swirled on the screen before settling in the center. 

The announcer began reading an update as a collapsed red brick building appeared in a window over the woman's shoulder. "Now, from Washington, DC. There's been an explosion at the Courthouse in Alexandria, which is just across the river from the nation's capital." 

"No!" The shout was torn from Mulder in a frantic howl before he rushed to kneel beside the images. Drawing his fingers across the glass, he queried angrily. "When?" He was whispering his partner's name now, as if she would appear to answer him on the air. 

Margaret and Caroline came running at the cry. 

Caroline grasped her husband's shoulder. "Max? What's happening?" 

The white-haired man pulled her against his side. "I don't know." He spoke quietly to the frenzied agent. "Mulder, please, it may have been before court was in session in the morning." 

Nodding, the younger man backed away so all four could focus on the screen. 

The woman was now speaking to a reporter at the scene. "Can you give me any details, Wolf?" 

After a momentary delay, the bearded, grey-haired man replied. "It happened around 10:30, just after the Alexandria Courts had opened for the day. We're only now beginning to put together a picture of all the details." He pulled a soot-smudged fireman into the frame. "This is one of the busy men engaged in the search for survivors. Mister Hollinger, what can you tell us?" 

The man lifted off the helmet of his flame-retardant suit. "We were able to cut off the electricity to the building before the flames reached the control room, or else this would have been a far worse disaster than it is right now. From what we can tell, most of the floors of the Courthouse have collapsed, so we're looking at probably several hours before we sift through all this rubble. We know there are survivors, and the sooner we reach them, the more we'll find alive." He hurried away. 

The grey-haired reporter faced squarely into the camera lens. "From the federal records, there were two important trials underway today. The first, of the alleged drug kingpin from Argentina, Shorcorro Guitierrez, was in its opening stages. The second, deals with the puzzling murder of two FBI agents by an African-American in the Bureau's witness protection program. All names have been withheld as part of the security surrounding this case, but this reporter has learned that the accused claims he killed the agents while they were operating under an hypnotic suggestion that directed them to murder him." He shook his head. "In this second trial, sealed from the media, replacements for several jury members had just been selected."

"No!" Mulder howled, staggering to his feet. "No! It's not fair!" He began prowling the confines of the room, barely aware of his three elders. "Please, Scully, please, don't have been there!" He ran into the living room, punching numbers so rapidly he had to redial three times. He listened, then slammed the receiver back on the white unit. "Her cell phone's not answering." 

Crossing the room, Max stood behind his grieving step-son to wrap both arms around him. "Mulder, Mulder, calm down." 

The dark-haired man was fighting back his tears and rage. "It's not fair. It should have been me, not her. Why did she send me away? Why?" 

Seizing the occasion to comfort her child as she never had when they lost Samantha, Caroline appeared in front of him, taking his face in both her hands. "Fox, son, please. Margaret will call your office to speak to your secretary, won't you, Margaret?" Caroline smoothed his hair while Margaret Scully ran to her room for her address book. 

Mulder struggled for a few moments longer, then collapsed against his stepfather. "It's not fair. Scully, please, be alive. Please." 

Max eased him to the floor, supporting him until Caroline could slide him onto her shoulder. She held him close against her, tightening her arms around his back, whispering in his ear, "Dear, lost, sweet boy. I'm so sorry." 

He continued to sob, reaching around his mother, letting go of more grief than just this incident justified. _Why her? Why not me?_

The white-haired man joined Margaret, who was quietly replacing the hand-piece at the table. "Anything?" 

When Margaret looked up, the color in her cheeks was all the answer Max needed. He grasped the dark-haired woman's shoulder. "We'll keep a watch out. I think the roast lamb will have to wait." 

Biting her lower lip, Margaret nodded before she looked over at the pair on the floor. "How do I tell him?" 

Max moved the arm until it was around her shoulders. "Poor Mulder. I think he already knows."

\--o-0-o--

Alexandria Courthouse  
Alexandria, Virginia  
Friday, 1:14 pm

Crouching under the table, Dana Scully concentrated on quieting her breathing. Then she compared the clicks, the small collapses of concrete and steel, the breaking of glass against the noises Saunders had made in his departure. She would have one chance to save them both, when their assassin's gun and arm first shoved through the opening. 

Stone kept his eyes firmly in the direction of the agent's nose, listening for the suppressed hiss of her respiration. He knew his role as decoy without her having to send him more than a cursory suggestion. 

Scully had thought it all through. Observing death's aftermath so many times, she would aim low, underneath the hands, shoving the pointed stick past the ribs, directly into his heart. A low level, horizontal thrust would mean a slow death, time to squeeze off the rounds that would kill them both. The spike in heart would bring a near-instantaneous demise. 

_Breathe, Dana. In. Out._ She had made peace with her Hippocratic oath. Killing this man would be saving the lives of all the strangers he would go on to murder if she faltered. _One for how many?_ The scrape of a chunk of concrete shifting told her the time was near. 

A thin beam pointed directly into the small chamber roofed in wood, passing across Stone's bent leg, growing lighter. The attorney, for his part, held perfectly still. 

The moments passed as if in slow motion. First the tip of a black barrel, lengthened by the silencer. Then both hands, gripping the steel as their assassin crawled forward on his knees. The arms were out straight, shoulder high, leaving his abdomen exposed. Finally the knees themselves, the angle of the thighs telling Scully exactly where she needed to aim. 

One of the Consortium agents who had escorted Saunders to the courtroom, thinking his cover so carefully maintained, caught a motion out of the corner of his eye. Turning, he paused to focus on the light, then found himself wondering why the batteries had failed, why his guts ached the way they did. 

Stone gasped as the gun turned on him, then swung at the man's chin at the same instant as Scully's makeshift pike struck its target. Their grey-suited adversary toppled forward, the stake forced slightly through his back as his torso contacted the carpeted floor. 

Scully wrenched the Smith and Wesson from their assailant's nerveless fingers, then the flashlight from his mouth, wiping off the thick blood which stained them both. Thrusting the silver tube into Stone's grasp, she swiveled the lens to extinguish the beam. "Use this only when you have to." 

He nodded, perfectly aware that the gesture was lost in the darkness. 

Scully placed the weapon on the ground to press her hands to Stone's cheeks. "Whatever happens, I will be back for you. Do you believe me?" 

Another nod, felt, rather than seen. 

She brushed brown hair off his forehead. "Say it, then." 

He whispered, "You'll be back for me." 

She tore the trench coat off the corpse to supplement her own wraps. "You'll be here when I get back." 

He reached up to grip her shoulder. "I will. Believe that." 

She tucked the long arm under the wool. "I do." She removed her suit jacket, balling it into a makeshift pillow.

Staring through the darkness at the body where he knew the lifeless face was pointed at him, he gulped. "Dahy-na?" 

She patted his cheek again. "I'll use him to block the entrance." After she backed out, she tugged the corpse into the void. 

"How will you see?" 

"I have a light in my case. I just didn't have the chance to reach it. I'll be back." 

"I'll be waiting." 

Satisfied, she felt for her leather bag, locating the pen light through a rend in the flap. Further along there would be light from the outside, she knew, but to reach it, she would have to follow this twisted corridor through the rubble. Pausing only long enough to discard her useless heels, she started forward. 

In the distance, she could hear the sirens of police, fire, and rescue trucks. The noises pulled her up short. She had forgotten there was a world beyond the steel and concrete, the wood and glass. Somewhere out there, Walter Skinner, Arthur Pendrell, and Richard Matheson were watching, waiting, looking for some sign they were still alive. The thought was oddly comforting. She hoped her partner, however, remained unaware of her situation. _Mulder won't take this calmly._

She crawled on, over thick blocks of ornamental marble, her wool pants ripping open down the right leg as she forced her way around one particularly tight corner. _Oh, well._ There was light now, a faint grey glow, so she knew she was approaching the end of the worst of the devastation. Rubble settled behind her, chunks of concrete shifting to new positions. She prayed it wasn't along the corridor between her and the attorney she had come to so admire. Ahead, she heard a grunt, then a slap. _Saunders._ Knowing him, he and his assailant were wrestling for the weapon. She crawled faster. 

The huffing and thuds continued, ceasing after Scully heard cloth tear. She stopped to sight the weapon along the beam of light. Ahead, Saunders, his hair and beard white with dust, held a Glock on the other of his 'guards', but the man kicked the weapon free, spinning when he saw the light to run for a door about fifty feet away. She watched in horror as a final explosion rocked the devastated structure to bury the agent in rubble. Coughing out dust, she realized she had no idea where Saunders was, only that he might be trapped. 

Reaching the end of the debris, Scully felt downwards for a surface beneath the concrete, wiggling herself out of the triangularly shaped opening. She gasped when something sharp punctured her back, then rolled to defend herself, pointing the gun and light upwards. 

"Scully?" The bearded African-American had snatched up a loose board, bent nails protruding from the torn end, when the struggle had cast the Glock out of his grip again.

"Saunders?" She felt his hands on her waist. 

"Agent Scully! Why didn't you call out? I thought from the light you were his counterpart." He waited until she had steadied herself.

She was reaching behind her, her hand coming away slick with a hot wetness she had felt too often this day. "I didn't know where your assailant was." The hands released her, so she spun. "Hey! Where are you going!" 

Saunders called back. "I have to leave. They won't stop until they find me. You're safer this way." 

Still clutching her back, Scully staggered after him. "No! Stone needs our help! Saunders!" 

In the false twilight, he glared one final time. "We will meet again, Scully. There is another player who needs to be brought into the game." He pointed behind her. "Help is on the way." 

She checked in the direction he had indicated to see fire-fighters in thick yellow suits approaching. She waved for them, then when she knew they were close, she looked back for Saunders. As she suspected he would be, the bearded African-American was missing. 

One of the fire fighters reached for her. "Are there any others in there?" 

Nodding, she began crawling back into the opening. "One, who's injured. Follow me!"

\--o-0-o--

Peter St. Germain forced himself to take deep, slow breaths as he tugged on the med-kit, pulling it through the last narrow gap in the rubble. He, as the youngest fire-fighter on the squad, was last in the line of three crawling along behind the red-haired woman coated in dust. _I didn't know an FBI agent could be that small. I thought there were height requirements._ He listened as she whispered to herself.

"Those benches. This way." She wriggled through yet another narrow gap between twisted steel roof beams. "Stone's not bleeding heavily, but he does have multiple fractures, lacerations, and contusions." 

That last was aimed at St. Germain's immediate supervisor, Allen Hollinger, who nodded, crazy shadows dancing in the jiggling light from the lamp on his helmet. "This is in your *expert* medical opinion, Agent Scully?" 

St. Germain ground his teeth. Now was not the time for the older man's barely concealed sexism. 

Bill Slonaker, the paramedic in the middle, cautioned Hollinger in a heated whisper, "Keep your voice down, Allen." 

St. Germain noted that, to her credit, the woman continued forward. "I've seen injuries like this in too many autopsies I've performed for Violent Crimes, Sir." 

But the older man slowed fractionally, thinking, the young fire fighter felt certain, of a retort that would silence what he considered a barely qualified amateur for this life-saving business. "Well, Agent Scully, perhaps you shouldn't assume live bodies are like corpses." For emphasis, Hollinger slammed his fist against the concrete, pushing upwards with his helmet. The shove, combined with the vibrations of four shifting bodies, showered them all with debris. 

As the dust settled, St. Germain could only make out Slonaker, directly in front of him. "Sir! Where are they?" He kept the hiss to a whisper. 

Slonaker was waving his arms. "I can't see just yet. The collapse seems to have opened up a larger void." 

St. Germain crawled up beside him, taking the broken chunks of concrete Slonaker passed to line the slightly wider tunnel to his right. "That's Hollinger." 

The older fire fighter coughed as they sat him upright. "I'm okay. Where is the Agent?" He tapped the light on his helmet until it steadied. 

St. Germain had spotted two tiny bare feet. "She's right here." Crawling forward, he cleared stone and concrete off her shoulders and head. The pulse at her throat was strong and steady. "She's out, but she's all right." He bent over her ear. "Agent Scully? Can you hear me?" He looked back to his senior fire fighters. "Do you remember her first name?" 

Hollinger shrugged. 

Slonaker frowned. "Dana?" 

St. Germain returned to whispering to her urgently, "Dana? Agent Scully? We need to reach the other man. Where's the other man?" He watched her blink, then her slack features schooled themselves into concentration. Her faint expression of surprise told the young fire fighter that his was not the face she expected to see.

Finally, a cough, then an answer. "Stone. We need to reach Stone. I said I'd be back." Disoriented, she rolled onto her side. "Hello?" 

The young fire fighter smiled unconsciously. "It's Peter St. Germain, Ma'am. We were attempting to reach your friend." 

"Stone." One hand on her head, she studied the debris. "We didn't come this way." 

Slonaker crawled forward, using a pencil-flash to check her pupils. "No, Ma'am, the tunnel collapsed." He pointed. "What do you remember in that direction?" 

Scully took the flash to point it into the darkness. "It's this way." 

Slonaker grasped her shoulder. "Is your friend trapped, or can we ease him out of where you left him?" 

Scully winced as she looked back over her shoulder. "We had freed his legs, so unless the table itself has given way, we should be able to slide him out." 

Slonaker crawled back to Hollinger. "Allen, go back, let them check you out, then tell them we'll need at least two more ambulances for this." His eyes flicked back to the auburn-haired pathologist. 

"I'll be fine. We need to reach Jarred Stone." The agent was partway into the corridor.

St. Germain admired the way she stuck her chin forward determinedly, but even he had to agree with Slonaker. "Let us be the judge of that, Ma'am. You were very fortunate that you weren't killed." 

She cocked an eyebrow at the thin face under the oversized helmet. "Can we go now?" 

Hollinger nodded a farewell, then crawled back toward the front of the building, while Scully led the two remaining firefighters further into the darkness.

After several more turns, she stopped to wiggle the circle of light slightly. "That's my briefcase. We're almost there. Jarred?" 

"Dayh-nah?" 

She sighed. "Yes, Jarred, keep still. We're almost there." 

"If mah friend Muldah doesn't come to his senses, ah'll treat you to a dance through the live oaks at Christmas, Dayh-nah." 

Shifting backwards to allow Slonaker to tug the stiffening body of their assailant out of the opening, she chuckled. "Saunders was right, Jarred, you southern gentlemen *do* talk too much."

From behind Scully, Peter St. Germain smiled.

\--o-0-o--

Lowenberg Residence / Alexandria Courthouse  
Santorini, Greece / Alexandria, Virginia  
Saturday, March 21, 1998  
7:47 am / 12:47 am

On the deck, the four were settled uncomfortably around a circular wicker table, where a portable TV was perched. Mulder had been prowling the porch like a caged animal, so Max had gently suggested they move out here. Caroline had provided her second by running a cable from the satellite hook-up to the unit. There, they could focus on the recovery efforts while Mulder pored over the E-mails he was receiving from the Gunmen. Having to crouch over the portable computer to concentrate on typing provided some small outlet for his manic energies.

As the screen faded to a commercial, the dark-haired man muttered angrily, "Why do they break away just when something important happens?" He had caught a glimpse of Frohike, a black portable phone against his face, on the periphery of the crowd. 

Caroline grasped her son's shoulder. "It looks like you have another message, Fox." She had felt uncomfortable leaving his side for the first few hours of the search. 

Nodding, he clicked on the line of text. "Jeez, these guys are great!" His knuckles rapped the screen. "They've patched Frohike's observations directly through to us here." He waved his hand at the screen. "Now we won't have to wait for updates from a network that would just as easily cut to an ad for deodorants." 

Margaret slid her chair beside his. "Yes, this is the one who proposed, isn't it?" 

Mulder smiled faintly, the memory of that weekend in Annapolis cutting a sliver of light through his gloom, just as the sun that had recently risen had cut through the flame-colored clouds over Nea Kameni. 

Max chuckled. "What? That little fellow proposed to Dana, or to you, Margaret?" 

While Margaret giggled, Mulder responded, "Both." 

Max's white eyebrows drew together. "They've never been anything but extremely professional with me, Mulder."

While Caroline covered her mouth, Mulder shrugged. "Fro's a card. He's had a crush on Scully for years." He frowned, struggling to put the complex joke into words. "But, he likes to razz her because she's so career-focused and strait-laced." Suddenly unsure of himself, he glanced at Margaret. "She's not his type, not really." 

Margaret focused on the tiny, flat screen. "He says none of the bodies have been women, which is good. They won't tell us on the air, of course." She glanced at Mulder. "It's been how long since the accident?" 

He checked his watch. "About fourteen hours. He also says that the two deaths occurred from impact with a falling cornice near the doorway. The survivors have been huddled under benches or tables. That means those in the courtrooms ought to be safe." 

Max waved them over. "Mulder, Margaret, come here!" Max pointed to the image of Frohike. "He's mouthing 'She's okay,' isn't he?" 

Mulder narrowed his eyes at the screen. "It looks that way." He rotated the laptop. "That's what he's saying over here." The dark-haired man crossed his arms. "Let's see if the idiots behind the camera,..., there she is!" 

After Mulder pointed, Margaret gasped. "She's safe, but what's all that blood? Where are her shoes? Who's the man on the stretcher whose hand she's holding?" She glanced at the agent. "Fox?" 

He peered at the face, which was obscured by an oxygen mask. "It looks like Jarred Stone, the Defense Attorney working with us. It would make sense if they were found together, since she usually sat in the first row behind him and Saunders." 

Caroline slid closer to the set. "She's holding something against her head, Fox." She focused on the words scrolling up the laptop. "Fox?" 

The younger man was pacing and fretting while he dialed the Gunmen's number. When it was answered, he shouted into Max's black phone, "Guys! Talk to me! What's happening back there?" He had tucked the squarish unit under his arm, then his frantic perambulations during the waiting had loosely wound the cable around his chair.

He heard a sigh from Langly. "It's just me here today, Mulder. I'll patch you through to Frohike. All I'm getting is what's on the local TV news channel." 

Waiting, Mulder chewed his lower lip. "Frohike!" He listened. 

The cameras panned back to the CNN reporter, but behind him, they could see Frohike passing the phone to Scully, her clothing torn and bloodied. Margaret tried to read her daughter's lips as the battered agent took the unit Frohike was holding out. "I can't tell what she's saying, can you?" The audible gasp of relief brought her focus to her daughter's standing partner. 

Mulder had his free arm wrapped around himself. "Scully! Is that you?" 

Scully read the multiple levels of fear in her partner's voice. "Yes, it's me. I'm fine, Mulder."

On the TV, the cameras panned away from the reporter to two more men on stretchers, so Margaret and the Lowenbergs were free to focus on Mulder. 

He was frowning at her answers. _Don't give me the brush-off, Scully._ "What happened?" 

She shook her head at the paramedic who was tapping her on the arm. "Right now, outside of telling you there was an explosion, which you already know, it's difficult to say."

Mulder berated himself silently. _Don't push her too hard or she'll never seek medical attention._ "Okay. Tell me later. Are you injured? We saw blood." 

A shout from behind her had her checking the building, but it was an ambulance preparing to leave, so she and Frohike were swept aside with the rest of the crowd. "I'm okay, Mulder. Look, it's pretty hectic here right now. Just tell Mom I'm fine for me, please?" 

He was rocking slightly. "Okay. You'll see a paramedic?" 

Scully shifted the unit in her palm. "Of course, no problem. I'm handing you back to Frohike." She nodded to the Gunman before she jogged away to Jarred's ambulance. The too-tall attorney had been calling for her; in his present state of shock, he needed the emotional reassurance. 

The oxygen mask barely fitted over his angular nose, so his words were unslurred when he asked, "Dayh-na? Where were you?" 

She clasped his hand. "Speaking with Agent Mulder." 

Jarred's soft hazel eyes stared. "What? Is he here?" 

She lifted one corner of her mouth. "No, on the phone. One of his friends has patched me through to him." She bent close to the short brown hair. "Don't ask how. There are probably more illegalities involved than an Officer of the Court wants to have any inkling of." 

He grinned under the clear mask before a cough shook out of him. "With your partner, I would expect no less." 

The same paramedic who had approached her earlier now grasped her shoulder firmly. "Ma'am, if you're not a relative, you'll have to step out of the ambulance." 

There was a soft protest from the man on the stretcher, "Now, son, is that any way to speak to a fellow physician, and one with red hair as pretty as that?" He succumbed to more coughing. 

The black-haired man frowned at Scully. "You're a doctor?" 

She nodded. "Pathologist."

Stone remonstrated in an exaggerated drawl, "If you boys don't want her working you over, you'd better get a move on." The 'boys' was drawn-out, Mississippi-style, the former Federal Prosecutor slipping into his childhood's speech patterns.

"Then okay. He seems to want you here anyway." The paramedic slammed the back doors of the ambulance before tapping on the glass between the driver and the treatment cabin. "We should take a look at your back, Ma'am." 

The lanky attorney attempted a chuckle, but could only manage a gurgling cough. "Glad to see your Momma taught you how to treat a lady, young man." He squeezed Scully's hand in gratitude.

\--o-0-o--

Frohike watched the ambulance pull out. "She's with the tall guy she came out alongside, Mulder. You want me to follow?"

Back on Santorini, Mulder nodded, forgetting that the gesture was invisible to his friend. "Yes. Please. Call me if you find out anything. Did you see any injuries? Was she limping?" 

Frohike sighed. "Not that I can tell. But you know sometimes she could run through a H-bomb blast and not bat an eye." 

Mulder hugged himself. "That's what scares me, Fro. Keep me posted." Dropping the receiver back in its cradle, he set the whole unit in his chair while relaying what few details he had in a flat mutter, finishing with, "She's safe." 

Margaret was by his elbow instantly. "Fox! That's all?" 

He chewed his lower lip before he met her eyes. "All I got was 'I'm fine.'" He shrugged. "You know what that means." 

Margaret clenched her fists. "Well, let's hope she knows what she's doing." 

Feeling isolated and abandoned, Mulder nodded. _Now I know how she felt when I took off all those times. Idiot._

Caroline tugged at his elbow. "Fox? Son?" 

He draped his arm over her shoulders. "It's okay, Mom. If there were something really wrong, she would have told me. Scully may be banged up a little, but she doesn't want any of us to worry about her. We should probably get back to work." At the white-haired woman's unconvinced nod, he released her. 

While Max escorted Caroline back to her computer, Margaret stepped in front of him, clamping a hand on either side of his waist. "Fox, talk to me. How bad is it?" 

He withered under her glare. "I..." He fidgeted. "I don't know what to tell you, Mrs. Scully." He stepped away to cross his arms. "We've both said 'I'm fine.' when we haven't been, run for days on too little sleep-" He glanced back at her. "-and while injured." He swallowed, remembering the Fordyce case. "I hate not knowing, not being there to look her in the eye." He rubbed his chin. "I hope she knows what she's doing." _I couldn't stand it if anything was really wrong._

Margaret was in front of him again. "Is everything fine between you two? You haven't gotten into one of your debates so she won't tell you if she feels you don't want to hear?" 

Echoes of old arguments assaulting him painfully, he squeezed his eyes shut. "I hope not. I thought we were past that. We've just been apart for too long, Mrs. Scully. We were so used to touching base with each other all the time, it was like we were thinking as one. I could guess her objections to my theories, and she could have rebuttals ready before I was finished presenting an idea." 

Remembering four eager faces gathered around her kitchen table, she smiled. "Well, perhaps you can go home, or she can come here, soon." 

Mulder nodded. "This trial will need to moved to a different region in the State judicial system, so there will be a gap. How long depends on the circuit it's moved to. They'll need my testimony again, so maybe I can check on her." He hugged the dark-haired woman. "I hate being this out of touch."

Margaret settled against him, taking comfort in the deep concern he shared for her daughter. "I know you do."

\--o-0-o--

Emergency Room  
Alexandria Hospital  
Saturday, 4:14 am

Alice Olivero sighed to herself. _It's almost peaceful right now._ The last of the victims of the Courthouse bombing was resting safely on the Third Floor, so the Emergency Room physicians and nurses were on break. This early in the morning, their usual cases, construction workers looking to shag a free afternoon with some minor injury, a harried mother with the flu, or the rush-hour accident victims, were all yet to come. Reaching in the drawer of her cubicle for her purse, she scanned the waiting area, making one last check for worried family members. _Who's that?_ Back in one far corner, almost concealed by the shadows, she saw a shredded set of hose encasing delicate feet, under slacks that had suspicious brown streaks running down them. 

Alice stepped out from behind the row of cubicles. _Not another one._ She had visions of explaining to her supervisor why an ER patient had bled to death in the waiting room. She broke into a trot. "Miss?" 

The auburn-haired pathologist pushed herself up on shaky legs. "It's okay. I was just waiting for a colleague's wife to arrive. I'm fine." 

Alice shook her head. The woman's pale blouse was ripped open down one arm, additionally, there was a circular bloodstain on front of her pants. _If you're fine, I'm Doctor Quinn._ "Are your certain? Have you been looked at, Miss?"

The woman's eyebrows drew together. "Dana Scully. I'm a pathologist with the FBI. I was part of the defense team in one of the trials at the courthouse." She let herself sag long enough for a sigh. "Yes, the paramedics checked me out on the way over. I have a few contusions, but nothing serious." 

Alice reached for her arm. "Then come over here closer to the door. You may have missed her, hiding in a corner." But she pulled back when she saw the woman had set her lips in a tight line, erecting a mental wall that was almost visible. _She's waiting for someone who won't be coming, even though she doesn't know it yet._

Scully walked beside her stiffly. "Oh, I don't think I've missed her. According to Jarred, Elizabeth is pretty unmistakable. I'm surprised she didn't fly the plane back here herself." 

The two women turned when they heard an angry voice floating through the glass double doors. "Where is everyone? My husband is in the hospital and here the place is deserted." A reed-thin woman slipped off designer sunglasses before stepping up to Alice to continue the harangue, "What kind of a facility is this? Are you the only person here?" 

Alice watched the new arrival smooth her platinum blonde coif before she asked, "And which husband is that, Ma'am?" She waited through an all-too-familiar tirade on her incompetence.

When Elizabeth stopped, out of breath, Scully glanced at the doors before she replied, "Elizabeth. It *is* past four in the morning." 

Blazing fury at the diminutive agent, Elizabeth blinked at her. "Hello, Agent Scully. Jarred has described you so precisely for his family I'd know you anywhere. Since no one here seems to know anything, I guess I'll have to ask you. How is he?" 

Scully nodded to politely relieve the receptionist of this duty. Gratefully, Alice excused herself with a shrug, crossing back to her cubicle to open a new record in the computerized files.

\--o-0-o--

Scully steered Elizabeth down the hall. _No medical terminology; it'll go right over her head._ "The breaks have been set, but otherwise, it's only bruises and lacerations. They want to keep him overnight, just to be sure there's no problem with the leg. He's in Room 256, on the second floor." She waved down the corridor. "The elevators are at the far end of the hall."

Elizabeth barely had the chance to issue another reprimand before a pair of steel doors slid open, then two residents in scrubs emerged, so she had a new set of subjects to chastise. "Hold that door! Stop it, now!"

Scully found herself pushed back against the wall to make way for two shouting orderlies guiding a bleeding mound of a man on a gurney. Rubbing her face, she swayed in the empty, silent hall. She felt useless, discarded, a pointless obstruction to rhythms of behavior and thought whose cadence she had long known. 

_I might as well go home._ Crossing to a bank of pay phones, she reached for one, then froze. _Whom could I call? Mulder's not available, and I can't pay for a cab. All my cash is buried under three floors of concrete. Assistant Director Skinner shouldn't be leaving Cynthia unguarded._ She leaned against the wall, forcing herself to think. _What do I do now? The hospital doesn't need me occupying a bed._ She was considering calling Pendrell, despite the obvious discomfort it would cause the ever-present Terry Phillips. Sensing someone standing behind her, she turned. "Hello, Frohike."

Having watched the interchange from the security of the corridor, the round-faced Gunman waved apologetically. "Sorry, Agent Scully." 

She lifted one corner of her mouth. "You have orders, I presume?" 

Grinning, he perched on the stiff plastic seat at the end of the phone bank. "Direct from Starfleet headquarters, Ma'am." 

Arching one auburn brow, she glanced at the floor. "And we both know how the Captain feels about disobedience." 

Frohike's lips twitched. "I wouldn't know, Scully, he won't let me watch his training videos." He stood to touch the gauze on her forehead, his fingers trembling upon contact with the darkened cloth. "How is it with you?" 

She passed her hand quickly over the bandage. "I'm fine." She had no wish to relate the exact nature of her injuries to the one source who would pass them, unfiltered, directly to her partner. _Mulder doesn't need to be on the first plane back here._

"Agent Scully?" Frohike grasped her elbow gently. "Would you like me to take you to your apartment?" 

She tucked one lock of hair behind her ear. "I wish you could, Frohike, but I don't have my keys. The landlord is on vacation, so there's no one to let me in." 

He nodded. "It'll be awhile before the firemen worry about personal belongings." He shifted his hand to hold her arm firmly. "You're dead on your feet. Could I interest you in our guest bedroom?" 

Scully closed her eyes, attempting to marshal a protest, but found the thought of rest, even on that rock-hard mattress, bliss to contemplate. "Thanks." She looked over at him. "That would be great." 

Frohike blinked uncomprehendingly, then nodded. _No snappy come-back. It's home-time for Doctor Dana._ "Let me just make a few calls." They fell silent as they walked, Frohike overjoyed at this opportunity to prove himself the perfect gentleman; Scully feeling stranded and adrift. 

As he held the van door for her, she climbed in, looking down to watch him search for the seatbelt. "That's fine. I'm not running away." 

Triumphantly, he held up the clasp end for her. "As you say, I have my orders." He trotted around to the front of the van, stopping to argue on his cell phone, before climbing up into the driver's seat. He started the engine, then pulled into traffic before he spoke again. "Agent Scully?" 

She shifted, fighting to keep awake. "Hum?" 

"I..." He tightened his grip on the steering wheel, then relaxed. "Well, what I mean to say, is..." He shrugged. "Oh, never mind." 

She sighed. "Frohike, whatever it was, thanks for the lift. I hope you and the guys aren't planning anything illegal on my account." 

"That's okay. Vicky has made so many improvements to the guest bedroom it has all the comforts of your big soft mattress at home." 

Scully lifted one corner of her mouth. "And just what do you know about my bed, Frohike?" 

Paling, Frohike gulped. "Ah, don't take that the wrong way, Agent Scully. I'm running you to your apartment. Langly never met a deadbolt he couldn't tickle just right."

She sighed. "Why am I not surprised to hear this?" 

Glancing in the side-view mirror, he shrugged. "I don't want you thinking we would just break into your place anytime we thought it might be a fun thing to do. We all need some feelings of security." He glanced at his passenger. 

Scully had dropped off to sleep against the window. 

He smiled. "Even Special Agents."

\--o-0-o--

Apartment Parking Lot  
Alexandria, Virginia  
Saturday, 5:01 am

Scully felt someone shaking her shoulder. "Mulder?" She lifted her head from the glass of the window. "Oh, hi, guys." She squinted at the tall woman behind Byers. "Vicky? I thought you were in Cairo?" 

After Frohike reached across her from the driver's seat to open the door, Byers extended a hand to help her down. "No, we lucked out." He beamed at his wife. "She has to go back next week. We just need to get you settled and after all the stories she's heard, Vic wanted to meet you." 

Scully nodded absently at the statuesque brunette. "Hi." The five proceeded in silence, hovering outside the apartment door until a snick, snick of picklocks swept the barrier aside. 

Frohike took Scully's elbow carefully, making her wonder just how explicit her partner's instructions to them had been. He guided her to her sofa, waving at it until she sat. "I'll be back." He tried to sound mysterious, but failed. 

Vicky settled on the cushions beside her. "Dana, I can send the men home, if you'd like someone to stay with you for a little while."

Scully clasped her hands primly in her lap. "No, that won't be necessary. Just to have helped me here this early in the morning was too much of an imposition already." She looked over at Vicky's bearded husband, who was standing with his hand on his wife's shoulder. "You two are together so little, I can't take any of that time away from either of you." 

Frohike returned from her kitchen, carrying a tall tumbler and a bottle of mineral water. "Here, Dana, have some fluids. Or would you like something to eat? You haven't had anything since Friday morning." 

Accepting the glass and bottle, she smiled back. "Thanks, but I'm fine. You should all go." 

Langly dropped onto the couch on her right side. "No can do, Doc, we have orders." Three heads bobbed. 

She drained one tumbler's worth quickly. "There, now you can call the Home Office of the Hitchhiker's Guide and report 'mostly harmless.'" She stood. "Please. I'm okay." 

Sending a dubious look back over his shoulder, Frohike led the way. "If you say that one more time, Mulder'll be on the first plane back here, Scully. But, we'll take your word for it." 

As she exited, Vicky extended a final offer. "If you need anything, please call."

\--o-0-o--

Shrugging, Scully closed the door behind them, resting her spine against the painted wood. _I thought they'd never leave._ She knew if she bent over too much, she'd feel lightheaded, so she tore off the remnants of her hose, leaving the stained, shredded nylon where it fell. _If I could claim every ruined pair as a work-related expense..._ She pushed the forbidden thought away. Finding herself in front of her closet, she dropped the stained and torn work clothes in a pile, wondering if they could be saved also. _A bath would be cleansing, healing, help with the pain._ Feeling the dust in her hair, she tossed off the remaining binding garments, then slipped into her terry bathrobe.

She frowned. _Pain? Why did I just think of that? These are no worse than what I picked up in Fordyce._ But this was different. She was... alone. Still deep in thought, Scully limped into the bathroom, running steaming hot water, just as she had when they had returned from Arkansas. She forced herself to concentrate on today, when she would have to face attempting to reconstruct the information on the Samantha candidates from the still-buried files. _Looks like I'll have to call the Gunmen back after all._

She reached out to rest one hand against the wall. _How long would Mulder be in Santorini?_ She'd have to check her notes. _Why can't I remember? Why am I so tired? I've been awake longer than this with Mulder on stakeouts._ She grasped the edge of the sink, pulling herself toward it to run a line of blue across her toothbrush. _With Mulder._ She studied the face in the mirror, surprised by the purple spots under her eyes and lines in her cheek. _I just need to rest. A few hours sleep, then I'll make it through for most of an afternoon. There's just too much to do._

She thought she heard a noise in the hall, like the sound of steady footsteps approaching. "Mulder?" She frowned again. _He's not here. You know that._ She waited, straining to hear through the silence. 

But there was no worried voice calling her name, no dark pair of eyes looking down at her with concern, no quip to break the tension. She sighed. There would not even be the comfort of a phone call, not now. If not Mulder, then definitely her Mother would book a flight back to DC, which would only place yet another family member in danger.

"I can take care of myself," she declared to the ragged image in the mirror, her tone taking on a petulant edge. "I can take care of myself," she repeated more softly, working on being less arrogant. _Hubris was always the hero's greatest weakness._ She thought of Oedipus, ignoring the prophecy of the gods. _Pride goeth before a fall._ That was her mother speaking. 

Scully closed the valves on the tub, thinking back through the countless times she had done this, to just before Tooms burst out of the ventilation duct to grab her. _Had it not been for Mulder, he would have..._ She caught the reflection of a grey-faced woman rubbing her cheek in the mirror. 

_Alone. Finally, I'm alone._ The robe dropped to the floor, stripping the rest of her self-esteem away with it. The bruises on the woman in the mirror were frightening. Scully slowly rotated, taking in as much as she could see. _If Mom were here, I'd be bundled off to bed with a stern 'I gave birth to a perfect little girl, Dana, and I'd like her to stay that way.'_ She grunted. _Too late, Mom. I'm damaged goods, just like Mulder._

The sorrow hit her hard, making her gasp. _Damaged goods._ It had begun as a little seed, a twinge in her middle, growing until she felt she could scarcely breathe. _All alone. They've all left me alone._

_No. You sent them all away._ She dropped to her knees. 

_Ahab._ He had come to her one final time, but she had sent him away without realizing she was cutting him loose. 

_Mel._ Her absence had sent her sister away, to whatever afterlife her New Age beliefs had prepared her for. 

_Bill and Charlie._ She had walked away, not even protesting when they pronounced her a danger, like some disease carrier, voluntarily declaring herself unclean. 

_Mom._ Sending her mother away, into the care of strangers. 'You'll be safer if you go.' _Was Mom safe? Really? Could any of them be safe anywhere?_

_Nichols._ His scratchy, gravelly voice gently offering to turn down a promotion to ASAC in San Diego if she needed him. 'Go, maybe you and Alicia can still work things out.' 

_Rosen._ Her sister in the X-Files, her ally in the playful battles of wits the four of them reveled in, was a Associate Professor now. She would miss her terribly, the jogging buddy that would speed up, ever so slowly, until Mulder would be staggering behind them, muttering darkly about chasing women he could never catch. Rosen and Cary were in San Diego too, starting their lives together, only not under Alice Hooper's eagle-glare of disdain.

_Mulder._ Her words came back to her. 'I want you to go find your sister, Mulder. Your Mom wants to get to know that wild man you've become.' _But I haven't been able to handle things, have I?_

_You sent them all away._ She felt the cold tiles hit her cheek. Her eyes stung, then a single tear began a journey down her nose, clinging to the ridge momentarily before dropping to the floor. _No! I have to be strong!_

_Why? You sent them all away. No one to be ashamed to cry in front of, just you and that hag in the mirror._ She shivered, thinking fondly of the steam rising away from her. The effort it would take to climb into the tub, to soak in the comfort the enfolding warmth offered, seemed impossible.

_I'm sorry, Mulder. I lost the section, not you. Please, please forgive me. I wasn't enough. Not enough._ Another tear trailed along behind the first, then another, until there was no reserve to hold back. _So sorry. Never enough._

She wondered why she didn't feel chilled anymore, before she passed into welcoming blackness.

\--o-0-o--

Scully felt a hand on her shoulder. _Who?_

"Rise, Father's Daughter. You have won." 

The auburn-haired agent rolled onto her side, looking up at the woman who had spoken. _Oh, no. Here we go again._

The sun-bleached curls bobbed. "Yes, indeed, Dana. Who am I?" 

Scully wrapped her robe around her shoulders loosely. "Well, by the short hair, peplos, silver bow, and-" She turned the shining quiver to check inside. "-silver arrows, I'd have to say Artemis, Daughter of Zeus and Leto." 

A radiant smile. "Exactly. Now, what you need is a good bath and a good rest, then you'll be up and ready to hunt again." 

Scully rubbed the bandage at her hairline. _Since when did it become perfectly normal to have conversations with hallucinations?_

The figure began unleashing her silver sandals. "I'm an hallucination? Why couldn't I be an aspect of yourself you've only now come to appreciate?" 

The auburn-haired pathologist sighed. "What, my preference for solitude?" 

The shining leather dropped against the tiles, followed by the peplos, then the figure was nearly submerged. "No, not that." The blue eyes of the goddess regarded her seriously. "I don't think you're ready to hear this just yet. Later perhaps, but not now." 

With that, the personage in the tub vanished, as did all her trappings.

\--o-0-o--

Apartment 5  
Alexandria, Virginia  
Saturday, 1:56 pm

Walter Skinner stood outside a brown stained door, the gilded 5 reflecting the vernal sunlight into his eye. He had tracked the diminutive woman from the scene of the explosion, to the hospital, then back here. The night receptionist, pleasantly helpful for someone awakened from a deeply needed sleep, had told him about the strange little man Scully had left with. He had expected her to call on Arthur Pendrell, or perhaps even himself, but it seemed her partner had other ideas. When he had pulled up outside the home of those odd-balls Mulder relied on so heavily, the long-hair had told him where she was. 

"Agent Scully!" His fisted blows had door knobs rotating, but not the one in front of him. "Scully! Open up, if you can!" He pressed his ear to the wood, straining to catch any rustle within. From the receptionist's description, he knew she needed to rest, but the case had taken a turn that she needed to be aware of, immediately. He was fumbling in his pocket for his pick-locks when the deadbolts were thrown back. 

Scully was wavering in the opening, one hand struggling to bunch the white terrycloth in front of her. "Sir? I didn't expect to hear from you so soon." 

He narrowed his eyes at her. Her hair hung in limp, ragged clumps around her face, square impressions of what he could only guess were tile on one cheek. She held the bathrobe closed with her right hand, while her left fumbled at her hips for the sash that was strung out on the living room floor. He took in the bandages on her face and arms, studied the bruises on her cheek, then stepped into the room before she could protest. "Scully. You hadn't checked in with me. Normally, I would just assume that you and Mulder had taken off again, but..." He shrugged. 

The auburn-haired pathologist nodded, her usual rigidity eclipsed by the painful stiffness with which she carried herself. "I'm sorry, Sir, I should have informed you early this morning as to my whereabouts."

Saddened by the self-recrimination he could read in her face, Skinner bent to retrieve the sash, then held it out for her to grasp. "Don't be so formal, Scully. I'm here as a friend, not as your superior. Take the time to compose yourself." _I won't tell her I have news, or she'll stand here until she falls over demanding to be updated._ He positioned himself at the far end of her couch, waiting.

Scully disappeared into her bedroom. When she returned, she had slipped into a sweatshirt marked with the elaborate seal of Oxford University. A pair of sweatpants hung loosely on her frame to pile thickly around her ankles, but her feet were still bare. She eased in the chair across from him. "May I get you something, Sir? I don't have much prepared..." 

His eyes rested momentarily on the open water bottle on her glass-topped coffee table. "That's not necessary, Agent. I wanted to see how you were and to tell you that you can take a few days off if you want." He leaned toward her. "William Norrington's body was discovered in the rubble last night after you left with Jarred." 

Scully rose, gripping the arms of the chair for balance. "Sir, we need to move quickly so the evidence around his death won't be lost. I witnessed the explosion that killed him, but it's possible he carried a detonator they'll try to cover up." 

Lifting his wire frames off his nose, the Assistant Director shook his head. "That won't be necessary. I was there when he was found. He bled to death from a puncture by a roof beam, plain and simple." One earpiece snapped against the nose pads as he waved his glasses in the air. "Scully, I've seen the faces of men when they die before, and I know what their expressions mean. Some expect death, have taken the time to prepare for it. They wear a mask of resignation, of acceptance. Some die in their sleep, peacefully, quietly, their ease apparent. Norrington was surprised by what happened to him, I could tell. He was found within an arms-reach of the fire escape, so he thought he was on the verge of freedom when the final bomb was detonated. He knew, I feel certain, that this was coming but that he would get out in time." 

Scully crossed her arms. "Sir, I want to work. I'm perfectly capable of performing his autopsy to determine the true cause of death." She shivered, then clenched her fists. 

Skinner stood slowly, walking around the coffee table to tower over her. "I'm attempting to let you know that it won't be necessary, Agent. Nor, at present, should that be your highest priority. That window of opportunity has been closed to us." He paused, waiting for her to grasp the message he could not articulate openly. 

She nodded. "Then what *am* I supposed to do, Sir?" 

Guiding her around to the chair, he placed a narrow red folder on her lap after she sat. "Go help your partner find his sister." He held up his hand to forestall her protests. "That's an order, Scully." He pointed to the tickets. "Those are for Monday afternoon. Take the rest of the weekend to pack for an extended trip. I've temporarily detailed you to Athens, just as Mulder was, so it's all square from the Bureau's end." 

The diminutive woman slapped the papers on the table-top angrily. "Sir! I won't be kept in the dark here! What happened while I was trapped in the Courthouse? What has Matheson told you?" 

Skinner shifted closer until she was bent over backwards slightly to meet his gaze. He studied the nearly black depressions under her eyes before he responded softly, "Nothing. I think *he's* running things on the dark side again, I just need time to make some very discrete inquiries. If you don't go to Mulder, you know he'll come back here as soon as he is able. Your partner, for all his noble intentions, has the effect of a strange attractor on carefully laid plans. We've all let these trials assume too much importance, but now is the time I should correct that error. And, as you reminded me, the disappearance of Samantha Ann Mulder is a legitimate X-File." 

Understanding doused the fire in her green-blue eyes. "Very well, Sir. You'll inform me when it's safe to return?" 

Nodding, he shifted his hand from her arm to her shoulder. "Of course, Agent. Get some rest this evening, if you can. A plane trip to Athens will take the better part of a day." He crossed quickly to the door, casting a brief glance back over his shoulder at Scully, who was frowning as she paced and planned.

\--o-0-o--

Apartment 5 / Lowenberg Residence  
Alexandria, Virginia / Santorini, Greece  
Saturday, 2:27 pm / Saturday, 9:27 pm

Scully eased herself into her armchair, dropping her cordless phone onto the coffee table between her and the sofa. The conversation ahead was too important to be handled electronically. _Dana, how are you going to pull this off?_ Despite her diligence, the search for Samantha was on pause as they waited for yet another adoption agency to review their information request. Mulder, his mother, and Max were enmeshed in the details of Saunders' testimony, cross-referencing it against information from Mossad on old enemies of the State of Israel. If she were in any shape to assist them, she would have pushed her tickets earlier to Sunday, and she would be preparing for this phone call with delight. But, every part of her ached, so she knew she needed several days of rest to recover, days that might cost them evidence or clues. 

_I have official orders. I can use the Bureau._ Resolved, she reached for her white phone, standing it on end while her vision fuzzed and cleared. _I need the rest._ She gritted her teeth. _I don't have time to deal with a head injury._ She tapped the fourth speed dial button, waited through the long series of codes, then lifted the unit to her ear. 

One buzz, cut off sharply. "Okay, guys, what's the word? How is she? Have you heard from her since you dropped her off?" 

She frowned. _He's been keeping tabs on me that closely?_ "Mulder?" 

"Scully!" The shout rattled her. "Scully." The whisper conveyed deep undercurrents of anguish. "Have you slept? Have you eaten? Skinner called to say you were on your way over here. What did he tell you?" 

"Mulder?" It was the best she could manage. 

The dark-haired man was waving Margaret over, mouthing, 'She's on the phone,' before he hunched over the hand-unit. "Scully? Are you okay? Do you need me to come back?" 

She chewed her lower lip. _This isn't going the way I had planned._ "No, Mulder, I'm fine." 

He clenched his free hand. "Scully! Don't give me that! Skinner and Frohike have both told me what kind of shape you're in." 

She struggled to fend him off. "I thought you always liked the shape I was in, buff, or don't you remember?" 

Mulder dropped to his knees in frustration. "Scully, don't do this. Talk to me. How are you?" 

She settled against the back of the chair. "Well, if you've heard from those two, you know as much as I can tell you." 

He ran his free hand through his hair. _More distancing._ "Okay. Just tell me when you're arriving in Athens." 

She arched one brow. "Mulder, it's okay, I can handle things through the Bureau Field Office there. I'm supposed to help you in your search, not drag you down. Just have some documents ready for me to check over when I arrive. You were sending me the latest intelligence reports from Mossad, remember?" 

He gritted his teeth. _What does she think I am? Doesn't she know what this did to me?_ "Okay, give me the flight information on when you arrive in Athens. I'll have the documents with me." 

She sighed. "Fine. Tell Mom not to worry. I'll be arriving Tuesday." She flipped open the ticket folders. "I’m on Delta Flight 2045, at three pm your time, I think. Hunh." She forced aside the dizziness she felt to peer closely at the notation on her itinerary. "It says 'E Tm'. Does that mean anything to you? Most arrival times are in local, not origination times." 

He flopped onto the tiles, grateful that she was asking for his help, even in this small thing. "Yeah, that's the East Terminal. Foreign carriers fly in and out of there. The West Terminal is for Greek Airlines and domestic flights." He ran his hand through his hair. "It's confusing, I know. Max was here to guide me through it all when I arrived." 

She rubbed her forehead, fighting off the headache that was forming. "Mulder, if you find anything new from the records in Switzerland, don't worry, I can find my own way to Santorini." 

He strangled a sob, holding back everything but a single tear. "No, I'll be there." Margaret had been tugging his arm throughout the conversation, so now he glanced up at her. "Scully? Do you want to talk to your Mom? She's right here." 

She began shaking her head, then screwed her eyes shut against the pain. "No, that's..." 

Margaret had the speaker by her ear. "Honey, it's Mom. Honey?" 

Scully propped her head up with her hand. "Hi, Mom." 

Her mother frowned at the soft greeting. "Dana, tell Mom what's wrong, please?" 

Scully's nausea cleared. "Oh, nothing, really. I'm okay. It's just been a long day. I have packing to do. I'll see you both in a couple of days. Bye." 

Terminating the call, Margaret rested the hand-piece on the desk unit before meeting the dark-haired man's gaze. "Well, she isn't in the hospital." 

Mulder nodded. "And she isn't talking, either. I suspect more happened than just a few gashes and collisions." 

Margaret sought out the comfort of his arms. "Isn't that enough?" 

Deep in thought, he chewed his lower lip.

\--o-0-o--

J. Edgar Hoover Building  
Washington, DC  
Sunday, March 22, 1998  
2:14 pm

Surprised by the knock on the open door, Walter Skinner looked up from his notes. "Yes?" 

A slight figure in a dark grey pantsuit hovered in the doorway, her auburn hair hanging dull and straight. "Sir? May I speak with you?" 

The bald Director rose. Like his visitor, he had shouldered into his standard Bureau uniform, his of tie and wool jacket, which he still wore in his slightly chilled office. As he crossed the room to escort Scully to the chair in front of his desk, he took the moments to read her posture. There were clues to his agents' readiness he had learned from his time in the field with the X-Files partners.

As in so many things, Fox Mulder and Dana Scully were complete opposites; their body language if focused or fatigued was no exception. When Mulder was in the throes of developing a theory, he was all action, pacing, gesturing, oftentimes seeming to defy gravity in his exuberance. Even while seated, the muscles in his face and limbs seemed to continue to fire, creating ever-changing patterns of light and shadow. 

But the woman agent, all prim precision, seemed to cool while concentrating on a problem into a picture of symmetry and motionlessness. Watching her once, Skinner had thought of the work on Bose-Einstein condensates he had seen on a repeat of NOVA late the previous night. The Nobel Prize-winning efforts had chilled matter down to near absolute zero until its fundamental structure shifted and was revealed. He had been then, and remained now, convinced that the pathologist used an analogous technique to step her thoughts through the logic she needed to prove their cases. 

As each fatigued, they would reverse roles. Mulder would go still, the long limbs falling limp, the dark lashes sagging into sleep. Scully would begin to fidget, smoothing her clothes, playing restlessly with the cross at her throat. He had watched her in the morgue while she finished a late-night autopsy. She would circle the table endlessly, with her left shoulder hitched above her right, limping slightly. 

When she did begin to fidget and shuffle, Skinner had also watched the reaction it had elicited from the tall man she worked with. He would edge closer to her than his usual hover, leave his hand on her spine a few moments longer, prompt her gently to finish or find something the lab would need to test in the morning. But the choices available to a comrade and partner were not open to a supervisor, so now, as he reached her, he cupped his hand beneath her elbow, not contacting the fabric of her jacket. 

Setting her jaw, Scully walked beside the Assistant Director to her customary seat. Unwilling to sink down, she rested her laptop case against the back, then waited for him to ensconce himself behind the barrier of his desk. "Sir." 

He returned to stand in front of the chair she leaned upon. "Yes, Agent Scully?" He knew they were both remembering the last time she had come to him for help in Mulder's absence. When that left shoulder hiked up, his eyes narrowed involuntarily. 

Her fingers dug impressions into the thin pad on the chair. "May I speak freely, Sir?" 

He glanced at the door through which the Smoker had emerged so many times in the past. "I was just leaving, Agent Scully. Perhaps you would choose to accompany me to my car?" 

Her face dropped, a shredded red curtain obscuring her eyes. "As you wish." Pivoting, she stepped away from him, her uneven pace leaving him even more ill at ease. 

He waited until they were in the elevator, she tracking the periphery of the tiny box ceaselessly, to prompt, "What did you wish to speak with me about, Agent Scully?" 

Her arms crossed, she propped herself against the far corner of the paneled car. "Sir, when we spoke in your office a few weeks ago, you mentioned that there were slots for Agent Nichols and Agent Rosen at Quantico." 

Skinner blinked. _Messages within messages._ He knew what she was really saying, that she was asking for help; that she was, in her own way, begging to be relieved of some of the burdens she had shouldered. "Those assignments were never real, Agent Scully." 

A nod, then both hands pushing down on her jacket. "I was just wondering if there was some way we could make them happen, Sir. With the new labs opening over the next few years, surely a place for Agent Rosen, with all her experimental and computer skills..." When the car bounced to a stop, she gripped the rails, her forehead creasing deeply. 

As the steel doors rolled open, the bald Director crossed to her side in two precise steps. "Agent Scully?" He pressed rubber flaps back into recessed slots until she moved out ahead of him. "I'll see if Senator Matheson can be persuaded, but I would consider it highly unlikely." 

She clicked alongside the former Marine for a few strides that became more regular as she advanced. "Very well, Sir. We shall have to develop improved methods..." The green-blue in her eyes began to cool.

Crossing the boundary he usually set for himself, Director Skinner stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. "Think on that later, Agent Scully. You have your passport and papers in order?" 

"I do. The Bureau office in Athens was most helpful." A momentary push against the broad palm, then she was shifting away. "I need to speak with Agent Pendrell in the morning, then I will be free to leave." Deep ridges formed above her eyebrows again as they advanced.

Skinner silenced the whispers that told him to drive his agent to a hospital, offering instead, "Have you finished with the work you came in today for, Agent Scully?" 

"Yes, I have, Sir." 

He scanned the parking lot. "You drove?" 

She tugged at the buckle on the strap. "No. This being cherry-blossom time, I used the Metro instead." She bit her lip, hoping he would let the white lie pass, since both the roads and the subway were equally clogged.

The whispers exploded in his head into shouts, but he forced himself to remain calm, knowing how Scully would regard any overt concern on his part. "Then perhaps we could discuss possible lines of communication while I idle in traffic on the bridge." 

At her nod, he presumed again, gripping her arm firmly while he guided her to his Mercedes.

\--o-0-o--

Evidence Lab  
J. Edgar Hoover Building  
Washington, DC  
Monday, March 23, 1998  
10:31 am

Arthur Pendrell stopped working when he heard the precise striking of heel against tile in the hallway. Slipping off his lab stool, he struggled to contain his excitement while he waited for the single soft tap announcing the arrival of his visitor. 

She spoke from the hall side of the glass door. "Arthur? Are you there?" 

The red-haired man flushed as he fumbled with the doorknob. "Of course, Dana. What can I do for you?" He studied her face and hands carefully. Her hair was neatly tucked into its pageboy, as always. The grey suit was pulled down until it was wrinkleless on her tiny frame, but he could see the long gash running down her leg through her hose. He knew she wasn't much for make-up, so he was surprised when a tinted flake fell from under her eyes. _Even that doesn't do the job, Dana._ He stepped closer to her. "Are you certain you should be here today?" 

She stepped past him, shrugging off his concerns. "I'll be fine." She rested gratefully on the lab stool, her knees and ankles pressed against each other, her hands gripping the circular steel seat for balance. "I'll be leaving this afternoon for a few days to help Mulder with his search for his sister, and I wanted you to do something for me, Arthur." 

Pendrell leaned against the lab bench. "What is it, Dana?" He knew this was a personal, not a professional, favor she was here seeking. 

She shrugged. "Let me buy you lunch." 

He began unbuttoning his lab coat. "No. My treat. Okay?" _Whatever it is, she doesn't want anyone to overhear._

Scully nodded.

\--o-0-o--

Union Station  
Washington, DC  
Monday, 11:37 am

Finished with her sushi, Scully tossed the plastic tray in the trash bin behind her. In the months since their odd date, she had come to appreciate the agent's many unheralded virtues.

Waiting for her, Pendrell crossed his arms. "I know you'll be happy to see your Mom again, Dana."

She lifted three vials from her pocket, each with a Roman numeral on the cap and the cylinder, speaking without prelude, "Would you DNA-type these for me?" 

He held the glass containers close to his nose to examine the contents. Within was a hair sample, two curled and red, one straight and black, while a tooth rattled in each as he rocked the vials on his palm. He glanced at her quizzically. "Who?" 

She shrugged, resting her left hand supine on her right palm in her lap. "My brothers and Mel. I went to Mom's house last night to pull them from our baby books. I know it's a longshot, that there's no way to guard against contamination with evidence this old, but I'm hoping you'll be able to lift some cells from the hair or the teeth. I'd like to believe that they will be in good enough shape that you'll be able to find some useful sequences." 

He lifted the leather protector from his shirt pocket, removed the pens, then wedged the glass sample cases within. Then he used the black ball-points to hold them in place. "Good thinking. What are you looking for?" 

The hands were clenched to the point of whiteness. "The memories I recalled in February of last year seemed to indicate that whoever took me was searching for a unique gene." She lifted an evidence bag and a slip of paper from her right pocket. "In here," she said, fingering the bag, "I've placed a sample of my own hair." 

Pendrell winced when he spied the jagged clumps of skin clinging to the roots of the strands.

She unfolded a yellow sheet with a brusque rustle, forcing aside the sympathy she knew he felt. _We have a case, Pendrell._

The red-haired man realized it was a post-it page as he accepted it. "This is a reference for NEJM." He looked up for her confirming nod.

"I'm sorry, that's all I have to give you to go on. I know I don't have whatever it is they were looking for, and that Mel probably did. If neither of my brothers do, then they really are in no danger, neither are their sons." Her shoulders drooped. "Then they have no reason to..." She stared down at her hands. 

Nodding, Pendrell reached over to touch her shoulder. "Consider it done, Dana." 

When she raised her eyes to his, he could see she was blinking back tears. 

He tucked the sheet and bag behind the leather in his pocket. "You need to get going, so you don't miss your plane." He shifted his white plastic chair aside. "Would you like a ride to the airport?" 

She rose. "Thanks, Arthur, but I wouldn't want to put you out." 

He shook his head. "What are friends for?" His blue eyes sparkled. "You know I've been looking forward to seeing the new terminal." 

As they fell into step heading back to the Metro, she narrowed her eyes at him. "I didn't think you were into planes, Arthur."

He beamed. "Dad was in the Air Force." He fumbled in his wallet for a plastic rectangle. "See, I even have my stunt pilot's license." 

She lifted one corner of her mouth. "Does Terry know about your daredevil habits?" 

He shrugged. "She gets airsick on commercial flights. Or so she claims." 

After stepping onto the escalator for the platform, Scully glanced up over her shoulder. "Well, that's one thing we have in common, she and I. While I don't get physically ill, I've never been comfortable crammed in those little seats." 

He bent over her back from one step higher than hers. "Neither have I. But, flying on your own is different." He tapped his chest. "I'm in charge." 

She felt herself chuckling. "It might be fun to try, at that." 

He beamed openly at the thought.

\--o-0-o--

Washington National Airport  
Security Office  
Arlington, Virginia  
Monday, 4:27 pm

Scully handed her papers to the slight woman behind the desk. "As you can see, the necessary documents are all in order." She spoke in that flat tone that Pendrell had learned signaled near-total exhaustion. 

The woman looked the pages over carefully, then verified that the serial number on the sheet was the one on Scully's SIG. "Very well. Just a phone call and I'll be finished." 

The agents waited while the official tapped out the Bureau's number. 

Pendrell waved toward a chair. "Why don't you sit, Dana?"

Scully shook her head. "I'll be doing enough sitting on the plane. Fourteen hours is a long flight." 

He nodded. "Better than having to change at both Kennedy *and* De Gaulle." 

The grey-haired woman cleared her throat. "All right, you may proceed." She turned to Pendrell. "Are you carrying a weapon as well?" 

He bit his lip. "Oh, yes, I am. I suppose I should let you hang onto it until I return." 

The official checked Scully's papers. "You aren't flying?" 

"No." 

She sighed. "I'll let you by, then. Since you're Bureau, it never hurts to have an extra agent around." She pushed the packet back toward Scully, who collected the sheets, then tugged on a shoulder strap as they prepared to leave.

\--o-0-o--

Washington National Airport  
North Terminal  
Arlington, Virginia  
Monday, 4:57 pm

Arthur Pendrell paused in the opening of the automatic double doors, long enough for the red-haired woman behind him to struggle through. _Why is it so hard for her to let other people help her more? Even I can tell how tired she is._ "So, this is it." They stared up in awe at the row of squat domes to their left and right. 

Scully adjusted her suit bag strap, slipping it onto an unbruised section of her shoulder. "Well, this is certainly an improvement over the warehouse that was here." She peered up at the locator just inside the entrance, searching the large white letters for USAir, then pointing to their right. "It looks like it's that way." 

Pendrell nodded. "Yup." He hoisted her duffel bag, claimed after a silent battle of wills by the car. "Wow." They wandered along the sunlit walk, the lengthening shadows from the setting sun casting long stripes and cross-hatches on the stone floors, until they found the baggage check-in. Normally, he knew she would have carried her luggage on to the plane, but given her physical condition, he had gently suggested she let someone else 'do the heavy lifting.'

\--o-0-o--

Pendrell had watched Scully relax while they wandered aimlessly past sparkling new murals and across the mosaics set in the floor. He had enjoyed these few carefree moments with his friend before she had to face the long passage, then her partner.

Scully slid the latest issue of "National Geographic" back into a stiff paper bag. "Thanks for being patient with me while I browsed through the Smithsonian Store and here." She glanced over at the technician, who had touched her arm. 

Pendrell beamed. "No problem, Dana." He pointed to the security check-point. "There you are." 

She sighed. "Thanks again, Arthur." Reaching for his elbow, she grasped it , then queried, "You know how to get in touch with me?" 

He nodded. "You gave me the codes from the Gunmen and the bearded one, Byers, verified them for me. Are you sure you'll be all right?" 

She shrugged. "It'll be almost a day. There's not much to do on these long international flights once they're over the ocean other than sleep. I don't feel right about paying for movies on the Bureau's tab." 

After walking her to the security gate, he waited until she was through, then turned to wave one final time before he sauntered off. He whistled tunelessly to himself as he studied the girders, which were painted a pale canary yellow.

\--o-0-o--

She rotated her shoulders, finally free of the burden of the bag. _If they want to bug my possessions, they'll find a way to do it whether it's in the overhead or the luggage compartment._ Scully found a corner seat close to the door leading out to the plane. She really didn't know what to expect from Mulder once she landed. _I can hope for the best, but after that phone call, I don't know._

Once she settled in, she returned to contemplating the man who was almost certainly pacing and fretting over her safe arrival. _What am I going to do about Mulder? If I could only rest for a few hours, I could think so much more clearly._ She heard the call for pre-boarding, then rubbed her eyes. _And if my head didn't hurt, and my legs, and my back._ She checked around her seat, then lifted one corner of her mouth. _Old habits die hard. At least I'm not dizzy when I bend over._ The businessman across from her had gathered his luggage, so she took the opportunity to stretch out. _I'll be cooped up for far too long._

\--o-0-o--

Washington National Airport  
North Terminal  
Arlington, Virginia  
Monday, 5:23 pm

Checking his watch, Pendrell realized he just had time to make a final pass by Scully's gate, perhaps even to wish her a more serious farewell. Since becoming involved with Terry Phillips, he had been made forcefully aware of the importance of social niceties. The mental image of the brunette technician brought a flush to his face. 

The red-haired agent stopped by the security booth, waiting for a uniformed African-American man to face him before he spoke. "I'm with the Bureau." He flashed his ID. "I need to speak with another agent about a case." 

The man eyed his gun. "Normally, we don't allow firearms into the gate area." 

Pendrell took a deep breath. "I've already checked in with your central office." 

After a quick call, the man waved him around the X-ray machine.

When Pendrell reached her boarding area, he caught sight of Scully in a far corner. Her perfectly pressed tan suit _I wonder why she changed after lunch?_ , sensible brown pumps, with every hair ordered, gave the appearance of the controlled professional. But, the glacial calm of her features offered no deceit as to her exhaustion. Her cheeks were sunken in slightly, whether from her recent ordeal, or the past few months, he couldn't really say. In the fading light, the circles under her eyes leapt out at him. 

Pendrell crossed over to her. "Scully?" 

Her green-blue eyes sprang open, her face composing itself as she focused up on him. "Finished the circuit that fast, Arthur?" 

He shrugged. "I tried to wrangle a tour of the control tower, but they were busy." He was rewarded with a sudden twinkle in her green-blue eyes.

She shifted slightly away from him while he stood over her. "Oh, you should use Mulder's old trick." She watched him bite his lip at the mention of her partner. "He'd just wave his FBI badge and demand they let him in."

Pendrell's red curls shook as an edge of frustration crept into his voice. "I couldn't do that. Air traffic control is a serious business with lives at stake." He bent over her slightly. "I just wanted to make sure you weren't going to miss your plane, Dana." He took the empty seat beside her. "And there's something I wanted to tell you before you left." He adjusted his tie. 

She smoothed her jacket before she looked over at him. "Oh?" 

He nodded. "I'm thinking of asking Terry to marry me." 

She flashed him a broad smile, her eyes glowing. "Wonderful, Arthur. I'm happy for you. I hope everything turns out the way you want it to." 

He sighed. "Thanks." 

Their soft conversation was interrupted by the noisy bustle of a knot of men, all talking at once in Greek. 

Scully rolled her eyes toward them, then back to the agent's face. "Well, I think that takes care of the quiet flight." 

The tall Greek in the center, his waist thickened by the years and the excesses of too much good food, slapped a stack of tickets on the counter. "We made it." He flashed the attendant behind the counter a broad smile, showing large white teeth. "Minister Askoras," he declaimed, waving at the men around him, "and his staff, ready to return home." 

The slight blonde woman nodded. "Very good, Sir, if you'll follow me. First Class passengers are already boarding." 

Pendrell watched the group pass. "He looks like a linebacker." 

Scully nodded. "Menelaus." 

The red-haired man looked back at her. "Hum?" 

She shrugged. "Oh, I saw a production of 'The Trojan Women' in college, and the actor who played Menelaus looked like him." 

Pendrell's lips puckered. "Oh. I never was much into Greek Drama. Suffering through 'Antigone' in World Lit was more than enough for me. Ugh." 

When the front coach rows were called, Scully rose. "That's me. Thanks for seeing me off, Arthur." 

He dropped his eyes to the carpet. "No problem, Dana. Take care, all right?" He bent toward her, but she remained still. 

Scully arched an eyebrow. _He wants to hug me?_ The awkward moment passed, then he stepped back, watching her hand her tickets to the gate attendant before he turned to leave. His gaze fell on a black-suited man who had been eyeing them. _Something strange about that guy._ He checked over his shoulder for Scully, but she had already boarded. 

When he faced forward, the figure had slipped into the back of the line, glancing around furtively. 

Pendrell, his pulse racing, felt for his gun. _Jeez, I hope I remember how to use it._ He walked over to the man, each step deliberate, anxiety rising as he approached. He took a deep breath, then grasped the thin arm. "Sir, I'm with the FBI and I'd... Hey! Stop!" 

The man had taken off down the corridor. 

Pendrell followed, gritting his teeth. _What do I, oh yeah._ He raised his ID over his head. "FBI. Stop where you are, now!" 

Black-suit glanced back over his shoulder, then spun around a corner. 

Pendrell grabbed a column to turn, then observed two security agents at the X-ray machines already moving to block the fleeing figure. 

When Black-suit paused, the break was long enough for Pendrell to tug his Smith and Wesson free. _I hope to God I don't have to use this thing. I barely made certification last month._ "Halt! FBI! You're under arrest!" 

The male security agent dove to grab the man around the ankles while the woman was on the phone, calling for back-up. 

Pendrell's hands were shaking as he pointed the gun in Black-Suit's face. "Don't move!" He heard running feet approaching, then they were surrounded by blue-uniformed guards. "You're under arrest." 

After Black-Suit was cuffed, then pulled to his feet, the male security agent patted Pendrell's shoulder. "Good collar. Just next time, remember to disengage the safety, all right? It makes a better impression that way." 

Shaking as he leaned against the wall, the technician nodded. "Thanks." He wondered briefly if this was how all field agents felt after their first arrest, before a frighteningly unwelcome thought appeared. _That was too easy. I wonder if this guy was a decoy?_

\--o-0-o--

Evidence Lab  
J. Edgar Hoover Building  
Washington, DC  
Monday, 8:49 pm

Arthur Pendrell cringed when he heard the glass in the lab door rattle. _Ooh. I'm late._ He slid the print of the DNA sample into its envelope before hurrying to the entrance. "Coming!" He pulled it open, quickly kissing the brunette standing on the other side. "Sorry. I was just finishing some last-minute tests." 

Standing rigid, Terry Phillips narrowed her eyes to slits, letting Arthur read her rage in the color in her cheeks. "I heard about your little adventure at the airport. Did you think it would impress a certain Special Agent Dana Scully?" 

Pendrell blanched, fingering the velvet box in his pocket. He loved the sharp-tongued chemist, but this relationship did nothing to sort out his complicated feelings for the auburn-haired pathologist. "No. She was on the plane when it happened, so I don't think she was even aware it was going on." 

Phillips jammed her hands in her deep lab coat pockets. "Then why put yourself in danger like that? Why didn't you just alert airport security and let them handle the matter? The guy was a two-bit pick-pocket, not one of America's Most Wanted. What if he had faked credentials to get a weapon to the gate? Did you think Doctor Scully would labor heroically to save you while you expired romantically in her arms?" 

The red-haired man collapsed onto his lab stool. _What brought this on?_ "Um, Terry it wasn't like that. I'm sorry I had to cancel lunch, and I'm sorry I'm late." He held his hands out to her. "What can I do to make it up to you?" 

She rubbed her eyes, red from the hard contact lenses she could never quite adjust to. "Make it up to me? What do you care about making it up to me?" She shoved the papers and Mylar traces onto the floor. "I'll bet this is all for her, too, isn't it?" 

Pendrell dove for the vial that was rolling off the edge of the table. "No, it isn't. It's evidence in a kidnapping case." 

Phillips pulled one print free of its manila jacket. "Whose? Hers?" She pointed to the D. Scully in the lower left-hand corner. "Don't lie to me, Arthur." She flung the thick sheet to the floor. "I stopped by to see if you wanted lunch, but you were with her. I stopped by at the end of the day, but you were running her to the airport." 

His mouth opened and closed several times before he squeaked out a protest. "It's not what you think, Terry, Dana and I are just friends. She needed my help today, for a case. There's no one else left for her to ask." He reached for her again, but she backed away from his touch. "Really." 

Terry felt her anger begin to deflate. "I suppose I shouldn't be so hard on her." She took a step closer. "I passed her in the hall this afternoon, and I must say she looked terrible. I guess these trials and the explosion really set her back." 

Pendrell closed the gap between them. "She'll be in Greece for a long, long time, she said. And I'll be here with you. Okay?" 

Terry nodded. "I'm sorry. She's just so much prettier than I am." She rubbed her eyelid. "She doesn't need these things, and her life is so much more exciting than mine. I know I don't compare." 

As he hugged Phillips, Pendrell thought of the ashen-faced woman slumped on a cold plastic seat at the airport. "I wouldn't say that, Terry. Sometimes I think she'd be perfectly happy with a normal existence."

\--o-0-o--

Somewhere over the Atlantic  
Delta flight 2048  
Monday, 11:24 pm

Dana Scully punched the tiny pillow she had stuffed under her head. _At least I'm further away from the Atrides and his retinue._ For the short flight from Washington to New York, she had been seated just behind First Class. The obstreperous discussion of the Republic's internal affairs had jarred her. 

But on this long passage, a new torture had awaited her, buried back in the eight seat row in the center of the 747. The couple behind Scully had been seated already, shushing a beet-faced infant with an ear infection. _Doctor Scully to the rescue again._ After a quick search through the carry-on bag she had refused to check through, she had carefully cut one of her antibiotic tablets down to a dose appropriate for the tiny body. With the help of one of the flight attendants, she had diluted the drug and two baby aspirin from the plane’s First Aid kit into a bottle of formula, then somehow the mother had gotten most of it into the infant. Now, the uninterrupted wailing had subsided to occasional whimpers, so she was attempting to sleep through the rest of the flight. 

She would have liked to pretend she was working from pure doctorly altruism, but if she was honest with herself, her motives were far more selfish. _I want to get some rest. Why on earth they had to bring a child in that condition on an utterly optional vacation is beyond me._

Scully could hear the flaps on the wings shifting to a new angle. _Oh, great, now an altitude change. Face it, Dana, you've got something worse than an ear infection._ The ascents from National for the short flight to JFK, then from JFK for this had left her nauseated and disoriented. _The last thing you should be flying with is a head injury._ She felt a cold spike of terror shoot through her. _What if something's really wrong? What if I've suffered permanent brain damage? How will I know? My mind is all I have, all I am. What good will I be if I can't reason, can't think clearly?_ She leaned forward, pressing her face into her hands.

\--o-0-o--

Up in First Class, Minister Askoras dropped his glass of Cabernet. "Oh, Alexander, give me a moment here. Deal the cards again, all right?"

The shrunken, bespectacled assistant eyed his usually exuberant superior cautiously. _Is it really starting this time? I've warned him, again and again._ "What is it, Minister? Your heart?" 

His hand on his chest, the thick-armed Greek puffed out a 'yes.'

Alexander hit the call button, looking anxiously to the flight attendant across the aisle. "Miss! Miss! We need some assistance here! Is there a doctor on the plane?" 

Thinking quickly, the black-haired woman disappeared behind the red and blue curtain separating coach and first class. _That infant._ "Ma'am?"

Dana Scully raised her head out of her hands. "Yes?" 

"We need your help up in First Class, if you could." 

Scully let out a long sigh. _Good Lord, what now?_

\--o-0-o--

End - Zurvan - Chapter VIII - Annwn


	9. The School of Hellas

\-----o------------------------------------------------o-----

Chapter IX - The School of Hellas 

\-----o------------------------------------------------o-----

"For Athens alone of her contemporaries is found when tested  
to be greater than her reputation, and alone gives no  
occasion to her assailants to blush at the antagonist by  
whom they have been worsted, or to her subjects to question  
her title to rule by merit. Rather, the admiration of the  
present and succeeding ages will be ours, since we have not  
left our power without witness, but have shown it by mighty  
proofs; and far from needing a Homer for our eulogist, or  
other of his craft whose verses might charm for the moment  
only for the impression which they gave to melt at the touch  
of fact, we have forced every sea and land to be the highway  
of our daring, and everywhere, whether for evil or for good,  
have left imperishable monuments behind us."

Excerpted from Pericles' Funeral Oration, as   
recorded by Thucydides in "The Peloponnesian War"

\-----o------------------------------------------------o-----

Eastern Airport   
Athens, Greece   
Tuesday, March 24, 1998   
3:48 pm

Fox Mulder pushed past a boisterous family of Turks, then through the glassed-in double entrance-way, whose automatic doors were never clear long enough to roll completely closed. After forcing his way through three traffic circles and six blockages for unknown reasons, he had ditched Max's tiny Renault where several other drivers had their vehicles, in an ugly knot close to the international baggage pick-up exits. 

He frowned down at the numbers scribbled on the sheet in his hand, then up at the closest Arrivals monitor. Chewing his lip, he scanned the scrolling numbers until he found a match for those on the paper. Peering down the terminal once, he set off through the crowds for the gate where his partner's flight was scheduled to arrive in the next fifteen minutes. 

As he expected, the door through which Scully was due to appear was locked, abandoned, an island of stillness in a swirling, colorful, noisy sea of human activity. Mulder waded through the crowd to the check-in booth, then reached over the counter to shake the attendant, who was counting receipts while perched on a battered stool. The physical contact had the man glaring uncomprehendingly at the crush of travelers.

Mulder leaned in. "Do you speak English?" 

The blue-suited ticketing agent nodded. "How may I help you, Sir?" 

_Stock phrase. We'll see._ The tall agent ducked his head. "When is flight 1036 due to land?" 

The attendant, whose fingerprint-obscured brass name-tag identified him as "Nicias," blanched at the unhesitating authority in the American's tone. "It's already here." 

"Then what's the problem?"

Nicias pushed his black curls off his forehead. "May I see some ID, Sir?" 

Mulder dug in his jeans pocket to flash his FBI badge. 

The blue-suited man stepped down off the stool, then out from behind the booth. Nicias stood close to the dark-haired agent, who had been forced to bend over to speak with a someone almost as short as his partner. "Mister-" The attendant gestured to see the badge again. "-Mulder, are there any other FBI agents on the flight?" 

Mulder shifted closer to him. "There should be one, my partner, Dana Scully. Why? What's wrong?" 

Nicias relaxed visibly, then pulled the tall agent back down by the shoulder. "Is your partner a doctor?" 

Mulder pressed his palms against his knees to keep from toppling forward in his hunched pose. "She's a forensic pathologist, but her skills with live patients are quite up to date, thanks to me. What's wrong?" 

Satisfied as to the agent's identity, Nicias nodded. "She was traveling on the same flight as one of our ministers of state. He's had a heart attack, and Doctor Scully treated him. We're waiting for an ambulance to arrive before we open the doors." 

Mulder straightened, scanning the crowds for a group resembling an EMT team. "I don't see anyone." He bent over the black curls. "Do you think I could get on the plane? Or at least speak with her?" 

Nicias shook his head. "Minister Askoras is partially responsible for international security, Sir." He waved at the crowds pressing in on them. "With the Olympics coming up in 2004, we don't want this to be generally known." 

Chewing his lower lip, the agent nodded. 

Both men turned when they heard a siren blaring from the corridor. 

Mulder glanced down at Nicias. "So much for secrecy."

The attendant responded by rushing to the gate while flipping through a ring of keys. When he pulled the door aside, a cluster of flight attendants, one pushing a wheelchair bearing a thick-chested, florid-faced man wearing an oxygen mask, shoved through. 

Mulder waited until the group passed. Bringing up the rear was Scully, pale and tight-lipped, her carry-on bag dragging on the carpet as she walked. He could see the bandages on her arms and forehead from the explosion, so touched her shoulder when she brushed by him. 

Expecting it to be her partner, Scully looked up. She mouthed, "Get my other bags," before she shifted the wide strap onto his palm. Unburdened, she trotted toward the cart with the flashing light, shouting to part the crowd as she moved. She and the flight attendants were issuing their admonitions in Greek.

Mulder's lips stretched into his lopsided grin. _I'll bet you memorized that phrase as you were running down the walkway, Doctor._

As she was swallowed in the crush of people, Mulder narrowed his eyes at her back. The glazed expression, dark circles, the lines on her face spoke volumes as to her own physical condition, but he would deal with that later. He headed down the corridor away from the huddle of medical professionals. There, he joined a flow of more relaxed arrivals, who were preparing to begin vacations or conduct normal business.

\--o-0-o--

Waiting as the Minister was loaded into an ambulance, Dana Scully placed one hand against the wall, closing her eyes while she allowed herself a break. _Why this? All I wanted to do was check that Mulder was all right, find a cheap hotel, then get some rest._ Her shoulders drooped for a moment, but, as a reporter approached, she pulled herself into her professional stance.

A metal sphere materialized under her nose. "Doctor Scully, when did the stroke occur?" 

Grasping the wire mesh ball, she lowered the microphone so she could speak. _English. Good._ "We were over the Atlantic, about mid-way into the flight, when Minister Askoras began suffering from shortness of breath and chest pains. He's remained lucid throughout, suffering no paralysis, so I diagnosed cardiac arrest, not stroke. He's been on oxygen since within minutes of the occurrence of initial symptoms." She rubbed the back of her neck. "I'm sure you'll obtain more information from the hospital physicians after he's checked in and examined in a proper clinical setting."

The reporter, her sun-bleached hair almost as red in spots as Scully's, persisted. "But could this be an attempted poisoning, rather than mere heart failure?" 

Pushing with one hand at the hand-held transducer, Scully forced the idea away. "On a flight like this one with only simple medical supplies at my disposal, I couldn't begin to diagnose the cause of the distress. You'll have to take it up with the hospital and the Minister's own physicians." She tried to pull free. 

The olive-skinned woman had taken her by the arm. "So you can't eliminate the possibility of an assassination attempt?" 

Scully tugged loose. "I can't discount any possibilities. As I said, take it up with the hospital." The woman's stubbornness brought a gentle up-curve to the agent's lips as she thought of the man waiting for her at baggage claim. "Good Day." Scully forced her way back though the crowds, ignoring the shouted questions behind her.

\--o-0-o--

A suit bag and duffel weighing down his right shoulder, Mulder scanned the passengers riding down the escalator. A black-haired man of medium build in a dark grey suit was just stepping off the top landing when Mulder spotted his partner. She was wedged between two Norwegian brothers halfway through the descent of the creaky moving stairs. When he was sure he had caught her eye, he patted his hip twice while walking past the bottom landing. He moved purposefully against the flow of passengers, who were progressing slowly toward the luggage carrels. Once out of sight of the man in the grey suit, he ducked into an alcove.

Apologizing, Scully passed between the broad-shouldered blond men, hopping off the moving stairs while she was still a step or two from the ground. Indulging in one of their favorite pastimes, the pair followed the diminutive, slender red-head with their clear blue eyes. Grey-Suit had hurried down the metal steps when he realized he was losing sight of her. But a shove on the back of one of the Scandinavians earned him nothing more than two broad smiles, then a stout clout of his shoulders for his mis-perceived good taste. 

Mulder shrugged off the bags while she detoured around the far side of the escalators. There, a large group of Iranians were gathered around a matriarch, as multiple generations were united, some for the first time. He kept his eye on the landing area for the moving stairs, but Grey Suit must have chosen a return trip to try to watch from the upper levels again. At a single tap to his right shoulder, he spun, pulling her toward his alcove, out of the main flow of pedestrians. Once there, he used the cover of greeting an arriving friend to encircle her shoulders loosely with his arms. A small sigh, a tuck of her ginger crown under his chin, then her slight hands were linked around his waist. The days of anxious waiting tightened his clutch. _Two months!_ Content merely to hold her in silence, he felt her tense as his fingers brushed the padding on her back.

Frowning, he traced the outline of a square of gauze beside her spine. "Scully, what's this?" 

"Just a souvenir of the explosion, Mulder. It's not so bad." 

He shifted his fingers away. "Oh."

Grateful for the momentary respite, Scully relaxed against him. "I'd tell you not to fuss, but it's too late." 

He grinned into her hair. "Yeah, right. Other than mementos you don't want to talk about, you okay?" 

Stepping away, she nodded. "I will be. Right now, I'd just like a few un-stressful hours of sleep to catch up." 

Knowing how hard it was for his partner even to admit that much, he tightened his fingers around her arms. "I'll see what I can do, Doctor." 

Relaxing her stiff shoulders, she sighed. "Thanks."

After a pat on what he assumed was an undamaged section of her back, he collected her bags, then they moved out into the stream of passengers. Unwilling to break contact in the crush, Mulder tugged her by the arm toward the customs area. Once processed and outside, she reached for her suit bag, but he shrugged, then pointed toward the car. "Max has an apartment here in Athens. It makes it convenient when he or Mom has a late flight in from Santorini." 

Neither of them gave any signal that they noticed the grey-suited figure watching them from the doors as Mulder slid her bags into the trunk while she settled in the passenger seat.

\--o-0-o--

Apartment  
Omonia District  
Athens, Greece  
Tuesday, 4:51 pm

The partners stood in a poorly-lit hallway outside a weathered pine door. Like the other buildings clustered against it, the apartment house could have stood a few coats of whitewash, as well as a thoroughgoing replacement of the terra-cotta tiles in its roof. 

Four tiny holes at Mulder's eye level were the only evidence to Scully of a numbering scheme, but at least the deadbolt lock was shiny and new. She wondered if her paranoid partner had acquired it yesterday upon his arrival to meet her. _No, then he'd have to *install* the thing._

Since he had adamantly refused to let her carry her own luggage, Scully made herself useful by lifting the key chain from her burdened partner's pocket. "This is the apartment?" At his nod, she searched the thick batch of keys, checked that the manufacturer's name on the cleanest matched the one on the lock, then threw back the dead-bolt. They ducked in as a noisy group of students passed them. 

Scully took a moment, once she was inside, both to rest her stiff legs after the climb as well as to survey the sparely furnished interior. Clear, bright Mediterranean sunlight flooded in through deep windows on the west and south wall of the central space. _Without the light and with more clutter, something this small would make me as claustrophobic as did crouching under that table for hours._

Mulder took a long moment to watch her appraising the apartment before he commented quietly, "I'm glad he didn't splurge on this place, too." 

She focused up at him, noting that he wore that dark, intense face that always masked his innermost feelings. _I guess he really did miss me._

With Scully close behind him, Mulder carried her bags into the single bedroom. He set the duffel on the wicker trunk at the foot of the bed frame. Lacking a headboard, a raft of pillows were propped against the wall, while a simple distressed pine nightstand nestled against the right side of the bed. With the bedspread a faded tan, the blue pads on a green wicker chair, carefully positioned in the center of a red and white rag rug, provided a splash of color. 

Watching her search through the contents of her duffel, he felt the urge to explain. "Yeah, this isn't a really great neighborhood, but it's close to the subway and train stations. You feel like a shower or something?" 

She stretched both arms over her head. "Sure. When can we head out to Santorini?" 

The rattan creaked as he dropped into it, then he propped his feet up on the trunk. "Tomorrow or whenever you feel like it. There are nine flights a day to the island, and just as many cruise boats. So, you can catch up a little on your sleep." 

She was tugging a clean pair of shorts out of the bag. "Cruise?" 

He grinned. "Yeah. It takes a little longer, but after that flight, I thought you might want to avoid planes." 

Nodding, she stepped toward the bathroom. _You don't know, Mulder._ "Thanks."

\--o-0-o--

Apartment  
Omonia District  
Athens, Greece  
Tuesday, 5:32 pm

Mulder edged the temperature lever on the one window air conditioner down a setting as his partner emerged from the bathroom. She had changed from her tan pantsuit into canvas shorts and a form-fitting grey FBI T-shirt. He touched her back, where a dark square spot was already appearing. "You want me to take care of this?" 

Patting her hair dry with a towel, she shrugged. "In a while. With all the traffic, and you having to drive like a wild man as everyone else in this city seems to, I couldn't ask about your Mom and Max." 

Smirking, he tugged her toward the balcony. "They're okay. Your Mom has really settled in, Scully. If she could, I think she'd move out here, too." _She'll find out the rest soon enough._ He slid the glass door aside, waiting while she stepped through. 

Draping the terrycloth over the rail, Scully smoothed out the wrinkles, adjusting the fabric until the two end seams were level. "I see why Max wanted this apartment. The view of the Periclean ruins from here is fabulous." 

Closing the glass door to lean against it, Mulder gave her a few moments to let her drink in the views of Athena’s ancient city. But, the sight of the bruises down her arms and along the backs of her legs he was involuntarily counting set his anxiety rising anew. _What really happened in that explosion?_ He blinked. "Yeah. It's great." Checking his watch, he stepped up beside her. "Just keep your eyes peeled, Doctor." He set out two wood and canvas chairs, then patted the top of the leftmost. "Take a seat." 

"Thanks." She rubbed her temples idly while she watched the sky glow red and gold. The last rays of light changed the few clouds on the horizon from white to green to a luminescent azure. Finally, they faded to a deep midnight blue, slightly lighter than the rest of the sky. A few stars winked through the haze of the city.

Mulder reached over to brush her knee with his fingertips. "Watch the Acropolis." 

On the heights of the mount that held Phidias's masterpiece, the normal low illumination of the glory of ancient Athens was replaced by a brilliant display of lights, the spare blocks of marble glowing rosy and incandescent. 

A deep gasp, before her lips morphed into their full-wattage smile. 

Mulder had been waiting for this moment. But her unabashed delight had him beaming ecstatically, grateful that despite whatever disagreements they might have in the course of their work together, there were a few loves they shared.

The five minute show finished, the temples went dark, then Scully sagged against the undyed canvas. She looked over at her partner. "You knew that was coming, didn't you?" 

Gleeful, he nodded as he moved to stand beside her.

Tipping her head back, she arched one eyebrow. "Did I react like a proper tourist?" 

Resting his hand on her shoulder, Mulder bent over to whisper in her ear. "Don't feel bad. It blows me away too." He lifted his palm away to stare at her waist, the tease falling from his voice. "Scully, you're bleeding."

Unconsciously, she twisted around to try to see her back while she poked at the spot. She rubbed her fingers together. "Oh, I guess I am." 

Mulder knelt in front of her to grasp both her shoulders. "I think we should step inside." _I won't ask. She'll be fine, even though she's not._

Rising, Scully studied her partner's darkening irises. With a sigh, she resigned herself to the fussing she knew was coming. Reaching back at the last moment to snatch the towel, she stepped away. "I moved my kit to the duffel," she informed him as she allowed him to lead her gently by the wrist into the bathroom.

Blocking the doorway, Mulder raised his finger to the tip of her nose. "Stay." 

She mouthed a silent 'arf' in gentle protest.

When he returned, he was carrying a tan polo shirt of his. "You'll need to change. Loose clothes won't get so soiled." He set the garment on the toilet seat, waiting for her to make the next move.

Scully pulled her T-shirt off, exposing her oldest, softest sport bra, then closed her eyes, dreading his coming comments. 

He shuddered sympathetically at the blackening patterns dashed across her ribs and waist. _Where can I touch her? No wonder she's been wincing as she walks._ His hands traced the circumference of the worst, an irregular oval around the gash at her waist. The bruising extended up across her shoulders and down her arms. Suddenly he felt a frisson of fear, vague and unfocused at first, then settling in the pit of his stomach. The damage was all-too-familiar. _This is what I looked like after Dad..._ He forced his mind back to the present, unaware that he had wrapped both hands around his partner's waist to massage the flesh gently.

She felt his fingers moving rhythmically, heard his soft gasp. Her voice cold with exhaustion, she hastened to reassure him. "Oh, Mulder, I'm not that fragile. It looks worse than it is." 

He carefully removed the gauze, forcing himself not to exclaim again. The line of stitches along her waist was puffy in places, stressed by the bending and twisting while attending the Minister. "I hope so, Scully." His voice dropped to a whisper. "Two inches to the left and it would have damaged your spinal cord."

Searching to distract him, she turned her back to the mirror. "Do you have..." 

He stepped into the bedroom, returning with a small rectangle of silvered glass. "Sorry, this is the best Max left." 

Nodding, she held it up to her right. "Okay. None of the stitches have torn. If you'd apply the antiseptic salve in the kit, I think it'll be fine." 

Mulder poked through the contents of the bag, finally holding up a green tube. "This?" 

As Scully braced herself against the wall, her head dipped once. "Hum."

He set the red-topped lever all the way to full on, waiting until the water steamed to wash. Once clean, he extruded pungent lotion onto his fingers, then applied it lightly to the stitches. "There." Another wash, then, his hands on the towel, he bent around to look in her face. "You haven't been prescribed some antibiotics you're not taking, have you?" 

Still propped against the plaster, she thought of the pill she had crushed on the plane. "It's not deep, not infected. I’m halfway through a course of ciprofloxacin as a preventative measure." 

_That you’ll finish, Doctor._ After restricting himself to a single huff, he cut, then set the cotton in place, finishing taping quickly. "What about your arms?" 

Scully shrugged, not bothering to look down. "In a while." 

Tipping his head to look her in the face, Mulder caught her wrist again. "Are you sure? These are almost as bad as the coyote bites." 

The months of work catching up with her, her patience as exhausted as her person, the auburn-haired pathologist closed her eyes. She sidled up to her partner, leaning until she felt the front of his untucked black shirt rubbing her bare arm, waiting for his sharp intake of breath before she replied, "Yes." 

Mulder perused her squared shoulders, the corded muscles in her neck, then gasped as his concerns for her deepened. He knew if he were just any man and she any woman, to be alone in a seedy apartment in Athens, she in a state of undress, would be a set-up for a scene like many he had on his videotapes. But this was Scully, who would use a joke and a pat on the arm to reassure him, to reestablish their connections, strained by absence. It hurt him deeply that she was using physical closeness to push him away like she was. "Okay." He stepped around her to pass her the shirt. _We aren't finished here, Scully._

As she lifted her eyes to his, the attempt to offer a small grin faltered, so she simply offered her thanks, hoping that would bring the subject to a close.

While she slid the shirt on over her head, he replaced the supplies, then tucked her kit under his arm. _She's exhausted, but she won't let me help._

She tried to step through the door, but when he blocked her way, she gazed up at him. "Mulder, it's really okay." She lifted both eyebrows. "Really. With some rest, I'll mend." 

Holding her shoulder, he bent over her, refusing her the easy out of a quip or a facetious leer. "No. It isn't. I want..." He closed his eyes momentarily to tamp down his fear and guilt. "I *need* to know what happened to you, Scully. I was half a world away while my partner was trapped in an explosion of a government complex." He ran his fingers down her bruised arm, then chided her as gently as he could. "You show up, looking like this, and tell me not to worry. Don't do this, Scully. We can't afford secrets between us, not when it's only you and me again." 

She pulled herself up straight. "I'll tell you, Mulder, just, can we have some dinner first?" Hesitating, she glanced at the floor. "I haven't eaten since yesterday." She checked her watch. “It’s not too late, right?”

Mulder lifted her chin with his finger and thumb. _You don't have to be strong all the time, Scully._ He sent her a sad little grin. _Avoidance. I wonder who taught you that._ "Okay. There's a place around the corner that's open all night. Fresh bread and vegetables, just for you." 

While he set the kit on the trunk, Scully rested against the door frame. "There's not that much to tell, Mulder. The investigation was still underway when Skinner sent me off." She reached into the duffel to retrieve a battered hair-bristle brush with a cracked wooden handle. "I'll only be a minute." She hurried into the bathroom without checking his face. 

Mulder sighed. "Okay." He moved her long bag to the trunk before carefully repacking the contents he had shifted to find her medicine kit. Ignoring the soft grunts he heard as she worked tentatively on her hair, he passed into the living room. _This definitely isn't finished. Something very serious happened while we were apart._

She appeared at his elbow, waving her hand to dispel the concern she saw in his eyes. "He figured I'd do more good looking after you." 

Standing by the front door, now open, Mulder held his arm out. "Remind me to send him a bouquet."

\--o-0-o--

Trattoria  
Athens, Greece  
Tuesday, 9:13 pm

The grey-haired proprietor, Andreas Demetrias, a towel stretched over black pants under a white shirt, pulled the chair aside for Scully. He bowed graciously when she thanked him. Exchanging pleasantries with the auburn-haired agent, he used the time to study her freckled skin and green-blue eyes before turning to the tall man. "Now, what can I do for you and your partner, Mister Mulder?" 

The dark-haired agent glanced at Scully before replying, "Some of your bread, and two large salads. One souvlaki." Smirking, he leaned close to the waiter. "Make sure to set some baklava on the table in about twenty minutes." 

Demetrias, well-padded from his own cooking, smiled knowingly. "Very good." 

Scully arched one brow at her partner. "I heard that." 

Mulder narrowed his eyes at her. "You're too thin, Scully. You haven't been eating, have you?" 

She shrugged. "Sitting in court all day, I haven't had time to exercise, so I cut back on the calories." She leaned across the table. "We've been followed." 

Mulder waited until the breads were out on the table to reply. "The grey-suit at the far table? I know. It's the same one we picked up at the airport. I don't want him coming back to the island with us. Your Mom won't admit it, but she doesn't need any more adventures." 

Scully took a long sip of her bottled water. "There's an outside chance he's here as a result of the Minister, but, somehow, I doubt it." She lifted one corner of her mouth. "Like Mom, at least for a day or two, neither do I." 

Mulder regarded her cautiously. _There's far more to what happened at the courthouse than I know. An 'Are you okay?' will get me nowhere. But she won't refuse a direct question._ "Scully, CNN didn't give many technical details about the explosion, but your Mom and I sat through far too many horrific images." He wasn't yet ready to tell her how little sitting he actually did. "All I saw was you, covered in blood, pulling people out of the rubble. What happened, precisely?" 

Scully tore one of the braided loaves apart, sesame seeds falling from the crust to her plate. "You have to promise not to cosset me after I tell you." 

He nodded. _Only as much as you'll let me get away with._

She dipped a piece of bread in the hummos on the table. "Whoever set the bombs had plenty of time to rig the courtroom. At least one must have been planted directly under Judge Rivers's dais. She and the court recorder were killed in the initial explosion, blown to bits." Her face slanted into her autopsy mask. "After this, there was a delay of a few seconds, just long enough for people to come to their senses and try to run out the back."

Mulder's eyebrows drew together as he listened. 

Finding she had lost any interest in the food, Scully shoved the plate away. "Stone, Saunders, and I crawled under the bench where we were sitting." She shrugged. "It probably saved our lives. Stone's so tall, he couldn't fit, though." 

Mulder nodded, having watched the angular, emaciated figure of the former Federal Prosecutor standing beside his partner. If Scully, in her heels, came only up to his chin, she had barely reached to Jarred Stone's armpit. The brown-haired attorney, as distinguished in his imported suits as Mulder felt rumpled, had taken to conversing with his partner only while he was seated. 

Scully shifted around on the bench, her sore muscles complaining of the lateness of the hour. "It was so sad. One of the roof beams collapsed on the table, and poor Jarred's legs were pinned by the concrete." She twisted the napkin. "He joked that you would have the advantage in pick-up games for quite some time." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "We have to be careful, Mulder. Skinner agrees that the old man with the cigarettes has regained power, or at least attracted more followers. The two agents assigned to guard Saunders were actually assassins." 

Mulder leaned across the table, touching her wrist. "How long were you under there?" 

She sighed. "About twelve hours. The men from the Consortium were searching through the rubble, eliminating any witnesses they found alive." She lifted one corner of her mouth. "Skinner isn't going to let that rest. He promised to start an official FBI inquiry into why there were deaths that were the result of gunshot wounds."

"So, did Jarred make it?" 

Finding the energy for a tiny smile, she nodded. "All ten feet of him. He's at Alexandria Hospital, Elizabeth bossing the staff around right now." 

Mulder grinned. "That's a relief. Jarred's a good guy. He kept bemoaning the fact that he wasn't twenty years younger and single." 

Scully arched a brow at this information.

Mulder frowned. "Scully, there's more, isn't there?" 

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "One of the assassins found us. I had to defend Jarred and myself." She twisted the plate for a few moments before she looked up at him. "I didn't have my weapon, so I had to improvise." 

He shifted to the planks beside her. "Whatever you did, Scully, it was the right thing." He grasped her shoulder. "Don't punish yourself for not being dead." 

She shrugged. "I'm not. Not really." Nervous, she propped her chin up with her hand. "But, it's hard. Shooting someone in self-defense, well, that's what we learned to do at the Academy. Shooting an armed suspect who was putting others in danger," she mused, shrugging, "I've made my peace with having been placed in that situation, too." The strange events surrounding the death of Jack Willis lay, unspoken, between them. 

Mulder released her, giving her the space to gather her thoughts. 

She pulled away, crossing her arms over her chest. "It was pitch dark and all I had was a broken table leg. I found myself thinking over my old anatomy texts, planning exactly the spot to aim for and the angle I would have to use to finish him quickly." She pinched her eyes tightly shut. "I'm a pathologist. I should be used to death." She shook her head, sternly attempting to set her fear aside. "It's finished. I've been over it in my mind. There was nothing else I could have done."

"Ah." Moving back to his chair, Mulder considered whether to let the matter rest, as she wanted. _No. Not about this._ "Scully..." 

"I'm fine, Mulder." Her head was held high, her tiny chin set firmly. 

He rested both hands on the red and white checked tablecloth as he leaned over the wood to stare down at her unyieldingly. "No, Scully, I won't accept that." 

She glared up at him. "Mulder, I'll deal with this in my own way."

He bent toward her. "No." When her lips parted to send out another objection, he frowned. "Marines, firefighters, disaster relief workers, go through less than what you did and get help, Scully. If you had discharged your weapon in self-defense, you *know* Skinner would schedule you for at least one session with a Bureau therapist. And he'd rag on you until you went." He sank into his seat. "Frankly, so would I. Sure, I killed Tooms, but he was a monster in human form. Hand to hand combat with another human, though..." He shook his head. "Look, I'll make *this* deal with you." He pointed a long index finger at her. "You talk as long and as much as you need." He turned the digit back toward himself. "I’ll listen. My psychologist's skills may be rusty, but they're entirely at your disposal." 

Her mouth twitched into a slight grin. "Okay. Thanks."

Waving the disagreement away, Mulder glanced in the direction of their tail. "He's not there." 

Scully flicked her eyes to the far table. "I guess he's assumed we've settled down, so he'll probably track us when we leave." 

Mulder stared across the wood. "What about Saunders?" 

Scully tore off bits of one of the steaming loaves. "He's gone."

Mulder's chair scraped across the floor as his frustration sought release in fidgeting. "Gone?" He reached across the table to still her hands, forcing her to look at him. "What do you mean, gone?" 

She shrugged. "I mean, he used the distraction of the explosion to disappear. When I turned around after freeing Jarred, he was crawling away through the rubble. After one of the slowest chases you could imagine, I caught up to him while he was fighting with the other assassin." She glanced at the empty table where their tail had been. "The man was killed in a delayed explosion."

Mulder grimaced at the thought. "Okay. So, where did he go?"

She shook her head. "He wouldn't say. Only that he was going into hiding and would contact us later. He did mention something about another player. It seemed obvious that there was no way this second trial would have been brought to as successful a conclusion as the first. So, that's about all, really. If you watched the coverage on CNN, you probably learned more than I did." 

Mulder crossed his arms. "You didn't go to the hospital, did you?" 

Scully's jaw set. "I didn't have to, Mulder. My tetanus vaccination is up to date, so I knew stitches were all I needed. I persuaded the EMT's to take care of that after we had the last of the victims out." She shook her head. "Now, how much of Saunders' debriefing could your Mother verify?"

Mulder studied her carefully. _Distancing me again, partner. This has to stop._ "Eat, Scully, while I talk." He pushed the bread and salad at her. "Low-fat and nutritious. Most of the vegetables come from the garden plot we walked through." 

She nodded, stabbing a few tomato sections to chew while she listened. Scully found herself smiling at the unexpected explosion of flavor. As her partner continued, laying out the detailed analysis he and his parents had conducted, she cleaned the last of the lettuce off her plate, then reached for the bread. She consumed most of a loaf, dipping it in the still-warm hummos while he talked. 

When he paused to gulp down a few swigs of water, she leaned toward him. "This just verifies what we suspected at the debriefings: Saunders was moved out of sensitive activities about five years ago." 

He nodded. "And that they were purposely beginning to feed him misinformation as well." 

Scully crossed her arms. "It's vital we find out something about their present operations: who's in charge; what's the balance of power with the Europeans and the Japanese; how far have they ensconced themselves into Red China." 

Mulder arched both eyebrows. "Yeah. But I want you to have a look at what we've found first. If I've missed anything, you'll spot it." He dropped his voice. "It may make more sense to you." He shook his head, banishing the memory of her abduction, then nudged the plate of honeyed phyllo toward her. 

She shook her head. 

He assumed his best theatrical pout. 

She lifted her chin in firm denial. 

He fell back to his weapon of last resort. Grabbing a fork, he cut off a corner, speared it, then munched noisily. 

Rolling her eyes, she sheared off the opposite corner, licked it, then popped in the entire mouthful. 

He spun the plate, grinning while he lopped off another corner.

Not to be outdone, she tugged until the pastry was directly in front of her, making a great show of measuring with the tines of the fork before she hacked again. 

He pulled the desert toward him, delighted that they had regained some of their former ease in each other's company. 

They continued to steal the baklava back and forth, until only a few green crumbs of pistachio lay on dots of honey. 

Scully leaned back. "Nuts that good should be banned." 

Mulder grinned. "I thought I was." 

She playfully tossed her napkin at him. "I see our friend is back. He must have been reporting in." 

Mulder beckoned Demetrias to his side. "I'll take our bill." He pointed to the far table. "And his, too." 

The grey-haired man nodded. "Very good, Sir." 

After they paid, Mulder sent a casual wave to the only other diner in the open-air trattoria, then they left. 

Their disconcerted tail pretended not to notice.

\--o-0-o--

Apartment  
Omonia District  
Athens, Greece  
Tuesday, 11:29 pm

Scully shuffled outside the door while her partner fumbled in his pocket for the keys. "We weren't followed?" 

Mulder pressed his hand into her back, then shifted it away from the bandage. "Not so far as I could tell. But he probably knows where we are right now." 

Nodding, she stepped into the room, feeling the light contact persist. "I'm really here, Mulder." 

Leaning over her, he chuckled. "Let me be the judge of that, Agent Scully." He locked the door behind them. "The sheets on the bed are clean. Hope you don't mind goose-down." 

She tossed him a tired glance. "That sofa looks pretty light-weight." 

A facetious leer prepared, Mulder stood over her, but the fears within him blossomed, driving the trickster to the farthest corner of his mind. He reached out, grasping her arms, rubbing them gently with his thumbs while he gazed down at her somberly. "Yeah. It is." He slid his hands to her back, pulling her against his chest, enclosing her in the slender protection of his hold. "Not that it bothers me too much." He leaned backwards slightly, easing her weight off the tiny feet he had watched stumble while they climbed five flights of stairs, and onto his own, that seemed over-large by comparison. 

She twisted, both to encircle his waist and to lift her sore shoulder above his grip. "It's okay, Mulder. I'll recover, better than new." She rubbed what small portion of his spine she could reach, caught as she was in his tight hug. "Mom's been training you, I see." 

Chuckling, he stepped back to grasp her arms, then stared pointedly at the stitches at her hairline. "Yeah. You will." 

Scully touched the gash. "Oh, this? I barreled into some rebar checking if any of the prosecutors had survived the way we had." She dropped her hand. "I never lost consciousness, but it really scared Jarred." She stepped toward her bedroom. "You know how head wounds bleed." 

Chewing his lower lip, Mulder retrieved a black wool blanket from the hall closet. "Hey, Scully, wait." He followed her into the bedroom, smoothing the cover over the spread after she moved her duffel to the floor. "You'll need this. It gets cool here at night." 

She looked up from the chair where she had sat to untie her shoes. "Thanks." Resting her arms on her knees, she studied his dark eyes. "I missed you, Mulder." In the thin light from the night lamp, she could see his face coloring, so she found her feet quickly, crossing to stand by him. "Tight-lipped marines are no good with the repartee." Touching his hand, she whispered, "And I haven't had a good cup of Kenya in far too long." 

Mulder blinked at his partner. _It's really okay. She's really here. I haven't lost her._ He turned his head for a moment, pressing the heel of his hand against one eye before he wept openly. "Yeah. It's not something they teach in basic training, I guess." He closed the door quickly behind him.

\--o-0-o--

Apartment  
Omonia District  
Athens, Greece  
Wednesday, March 25, 1998  
12:03 am

Mulder dropped the pages of the report back onto its open manila folder. After discussing it with Max, he had brought the documentation on the Consortium with him, assuming he would show it to his partner. But when he saw how battered she was, he had hesitated. Even though she would never ask for it, Scully needed a few days of rest before he could launch them on any new chase. 

Max had taken him aside before he left, out of earshot of his partner's dark-haired mother. They both agreed that Margaret Scully was shell-shocked by the events of the past few months, so the older man had hoped a few days of down-time would let her settle.

Mulder slid off his glasses to rub his eyes. A brief phone call before leaving for the airport had told him that the reports of strangers on the island had not ceased when he had left with the papers. He hadn't wanted to tell Scully, but it appeared whatever their parents had accumulated had them under constant surveillance.

Resting his head on the wicker back of the sofa, Mulder thought of the woman sleeping just a few inches behind him. _I was afraid we couldn't pick right up where we had left off._ After nearly two months apart, his ever-present horror that he would lose his partner had grown to nearly an obsession. They were cracking jokes with each other as if the twin trials had never happened, but she had cloaked herself in her familiar mantle of invincibility. _You needed to be strong for the courts and the dissolution of the section, but you can't keep it up forever, Scully. We have to get through those shields somehow._

"No!" 

The cry brought him upright. 

"No!" 

Sprinting to the bedroom, Mulder found Scully curled in a ball, hugging one of the goose-down pillows tightly. _More abduction memories? Or was the explosion worse than she had been willing to admit?_ He crossed to kneel beside her. "Scully?" 

Releasing the bolster, she stretched a hand toward the sound of her name. "Mulder? Are you there?" 

The plaintive note to her voice made his breath catch. _For as long as you'll let me help, Scully._ He rubbed her shoulder. "It's over. You're safe." He desperately wanted to hold her again, to reassure himself that she was really here, but he knew how easily she startled while she was waking, so he waited.

As she came to herself, her knees traveled down the mattress, her mind adjusting to his presence. "Mulder?" She reached for the light. "You're awake?" 

Once she rolled onto her back, he shifted up to sit by her. "Ah, some things don't change, Scully." He dropped his hand to her forehead. "You want to tell me the rest, now?" 

Scully pulled her ankles up so they could sit facing each other, she with the covers draped over her crossed legs. She studied his pale feet, which were tucked under his jeans, then his firm grasp of her wrist, as if he could pull the facts out of her like taffy. "I suppose. When I was leading the rescue crew through the rubble, it kept shifting and settling from all the vibrations." She stared down at the patterned rug. "The way back took longer than it should have." She covered the back of her head with her palm. "There was a partial cave-in, and they had to dig me out before we could reach Jarred. I was unconscious for about ten minutes." She lifted her hand free to grip his arm. "Sorry about earlier. It seems I've developed a fear of confined spaces." 

Mulder shrugged. "I couldn't begin to imagine why." He cocked his head. "It's not triggering any further memories?" 

She pushed her hair behind her ear. "From my abduction?" Her green-blue eyes shifted randomly as she struggled to recall. "I don't know. I may have been confined during transport." She shook her head. "I have no sense of that time, only of the events in the warehouse." She slid out from under the covers to head into the hall. "Is the water here safe to drink?" 

Rising, he followed her. He knew there was something she was still pushing away, but that it would come out of her, soon. "It is, but, I stocked the fridge with plenty of Evian, though." 

Stepping into the living room, Scully glimpsed the papers strewn on the sofa and floor. "You brought the documentation from your Mom?" She knelt, shifting folders, flipping through pages. 

Mulder returned with a tall plastic bottle, holding it out for her. "Yeah, I did. I agree the trail's old, as you said, but I still think I'm missing something." He sighed. "At least someone who doesn't want to be identified thinks we know things we shouldn't." 

Accepting the water with a slight dip of her head, Scully waited while he settled beside her on the black slate slabs. "Well, you're right, Mulder, some things don't change." She tossed her hair, relieved to be on the hunt with him, rather than wrestling with a pain too near to recall dispassionately. She glanced pointedly around the room. "What, no slide show? I'm not sure how to start an investigation without one." 

His eyes gleamed. "Not this time. At the house, though..." 

From a stack close to her, she shook loose a photo showing a young girl in a plain muslin dress, who was pulling weeds from a small vegetable garden. "This is Sam at the Kibbutz?" 

Mulder nodded. "Looks like the squirt actually had to do some honest work." He studied the print with a one-sided grin. "She hated getting dirty at home." His long fingers trailed over the shape in the image, then he placed the glossy paper back on a folder. 

Scully touched his arm. "It's like you've found some of the missing pieces, anyway." She shifted closer to him. "Tell me what you think this means, Mulder." 

Blinking away tears, he nodded. "Yeah. I feel I'm catching up with her life, little by little." He opened another folder, removing several large ruled blue cards. "It seems she got all the math genes in the family." He pointed to a list of grades, A's in arithmetic and geometry, B's in Hebrew, and a C in History. 

Scully took the sheets from him, studying them carefully. "But her marks improved while she was there. It must have just been the initial dislocation." She passed the cards back. "It appears she's as bright as you are." 

Mulder leaned away. "Ooh, a compliment from the Enigmatic One. That blow to the head must have addled your wits, Doctor." 

She slapped at his shoulder playfully. "Go on, Mulder, I don't think I'll be sleeping much tonight, anyway." 

Assembling a haphazard stack of papers, he grinned.

\--o-0-o--

Apartment  
Omonia District  
Athens, Greece  
Wednesday, 6:36 am

The first rays from the sunrise illuminated Scully's arms, setting the freckles there in stark relief to her skin. She blinked at the light streaming in through the window. "Morning already? It seems like I just got started." 

He had shifted to the wicker seat to watch her work on the floor. "Yeah. It looks like it is. So, what do you think?" 

Scully closed the folder on her lap. "I'm not sure. It's like there's something tugging at my memories in all these." She waved at the fan of papers. "But I don't see it just yet." She moved up onto the green and white striped cushions of the sofa. 

Mulder stretched his feet out in front of him. "Maybe if you take a break, it'll come to you." 

She looked over at her partner. "Perhaps. It's not like we don't have a city full of distractions for us to use." 

Grinning, he stood. "Ah, I knew my charms wouldn't be enough to keep you here. After I hit the shower we'll take in some sights." 

Scully twisted around on the cushions, stretching out the length of the couch. _How did he sleep on this? It's barely long enough for me._ "You know, it might work to our advantage to keep our tail off-guard." 

Cocking an eyebrow, he bent over her. "Yeah." He shifted a curl off her forehead. "Share, Doctor." 

She interlinked her fingers on her stomach. "I think I should pay a visit to my airborne patient." 

He crouched. "Make it look like you really do have something to tell the Minister." He tapped his teeth with his thumbnail. "I like it. Let me ponder while I scrub." He grasped her wrist while he stood. "Don't move." 

Snorting, she shifted onto her side.

\--o-0-o--

Apartment  
Omonia District  
Athens, Greece  
Wednesday, 7:21 am

Mulder bounced out of the bathroom, rubbing his hair with one of the thick towels Caroline had secreted into his bag. "Hey, Scully, I..." Stopping short, he smiled to himself. _She needs this._

His partner was asleep, as primly settled in repose as she ever was in life. Scully had tucked both hands under her head, one palm flat against the other. Most other women would curl up one leg, leaving the other out straight, but not his Dana Scully. Both knees were raised to precisely the same angle, one foot on top of the other so she appeared to be one of those Monopods encountered during Lewis' Voyage of the Dawn Treader. Only her hair was flung about in wild disarray, but he suspected that if she could order each strand, she would. 

That unerring poise of hers made her hard to sneak up on, but over the years, Mulder had treasured the few times, like this one, that he had. Now he just stood there, affection for his closest friend and pride at her strength warring with the relief for her continued presence and the guilt he felt for depending on her so completely. 

Catlike, she had sensed his approach, so blinked herself awake. "Mulder?" 

He dragged the chair over beside her to sit. "Yeah?" 

She pushed herself up on one elbow. "You have any brilliant ideas while you were making yourself presentable?" 

Sliding onto the cushions beside her, Mulder dug a comb out of his pocket to pull it through his own hair several times before passing it to her. "Yeah, I have. I'll take the Consortium documents with us in a bag. Max has the originals locked up securely, so if something happens out there, we're only a few days behind. If we can't figure out what our tail is really after, we'll try splitting up and shadowing each other." 

Turning the comb around, she nodded. "See if he's after, you, me, or-" She pointed with the narrow end. "-those papers." She rose from the sofa to stand in front of the mirror in the bathroom. 

Mulder followed her, leaning against the door while she, wincing as she worked, combed her hair. _Those dark circles are just as bad._ He closed the distance between them. "Scully, if you need a break, that's fine with me."

She shifted to face him. "I'll just be a minute here." 

Exasperated, Mulder reached up to take the comb. _The silent, supportive routine is getting me nowhere._ "Stop this, Scully, it's me, your partner, not Skinner, not a courtroom full of attorneys. Just remember how many times you've patched me up. Fair is fair."

Scully reached up to contain the fingers that had already begun separating and smoothing her curls. "You promised you wouldn't coddle me." 

He leaned close to her, whispering, "Did I? Deny everything, Agent Scully. Besides, given what you've been through, I'd hardly call a day or two of recovery coddling." 

Frustrated at her debility, she chewed her lip before she replied. "I'm sorry, Mulder." She poked at her back. "These are slowing us down." 

He released a soft sigh. "No more than you being caught up in that trial for weeks on end." Mulder clamped one hand down on her shoulder. "Let me." 

Pushing his hands away, Scully brushed past him back into the living room. _I'm not an invalid, Mulder._ Her arms rigid at her sides, she paced, opening and closing her fists while she wrestled with her anger. 

Standing by the sofa, Mulder watched her, waiting. "I mean it, Scully. If you need a break, we'll stop." 

At his soft suggestion, she whirled, letting him read the frustration in her eyes. 

He took a step toward her. _I'm here. Let it go, Scully._

Her lips drew into a thin line before she growled. "We can't stop, Mulder, you know that." She stalked toward him. "Or is this just the excuse you need so you can ditch your weak little woman partner?" 

He clenched his fists, but kept silent. 

She stood just beneath his chin, her eyes boring into his. "Is it?" 

He reached for her shoulders. "Scully, I'm past that. We separated at your suggestion, not mine. It earned us some free exposure, but not the whole truth."

She spun away from him. "Which you think is my fault, no doubt." 

Mulder stared at her. "Scully! Do you blame yourself for the explosion, is that it?" He watched her pace. "You're just one person. How could you have known something like that was coming?" 

Standing at the far end of the room, she hugged herself. "I should have been more careful." 

Mulder dropped onto the thick cushions of the couch. "What do you mean?" 

She waved a clenched fist in the direction of the bedroom. "Those dreams?" 

He rose to take a step toward her. "Yes? 

Scully pushed her hair behind her ear. "This isn't the first time I've had trouble with tight spaces." 

Mulder frowned. _A shout of 'Eureka' will shut her down completely._ "Oh?" He kept his tone carefully neutral. 

She paced the length of the room and back before she replied. "Ever since we've separated, I've been feeling trapped whenever I was in a bathroom, or an elevator, or even selecting clothes in my own closet." She was unprepared to acquaint him with all her internal struggles, yet.

Mulder waited. 

She held both hands up, palms toward him. "Now, I'm not one to immediately think precognition, Mulder, you know that." 

He nodded. "That's never been how we've operated, Scully."

She frowned. "If it weren't for you, I would have called it a hunch, or a suspicion working in my unconscious based on the past behavior of the people we were dealing with." 

Mulder took another step toward her. "Yes, it could have been all those things. True precognition is difficult to document, which is why you and I have agreed on its existence so rarely." He extended his arms out from his body slightly as he shifted toward her. "You have confinement dreams for months, but nothing happens, so you brush them off. Only in light of the explosion does this 'feeling' of yours seem to have a deeper meaning." 

She clenched her fists at her sides. "But whatever the feeling was, I kept pushing it aside, just as you said." She stared at the floor for a moment before she met his eyes. "If you'd been there, I'm not sure I would have." 

Mulder gasped, submerged in the deep sadness washing over him. "But I wasn't." He closed his eyes momentarily. "Were these 'feelings' becoming stronger or more frequent in the time just prior to the explosion?" 

Hearing an angry buzzing in her ears, Scully rubbed her forehead. "Looking back, I'd say yes, but I can't be sure. I didn't document anything about what was happening to me. My memory could very easily be..." 

Mulder's deep concern escaped in a sympathetic whisper. "You had so much on your mind, Scully. The Section, the trials, helping me." He waved at the papers, white on black stone.

She nodded. "All the time we were trapped, I kept thinking: 'I should have known. I should have seen this coming.' I replayed in my mind, not only the past behavior of our enemies, but all those moments when I felt confined." 

Mulder sighed. "You think if you'd paid more attention to your intuition you might have been attuned to pick up some clue that the courtroom was rigged." 

She nodded. 

Mulder closed his eyes. _That's why you're so angry with yourself, Scully._

Before he could cross over to her, she punched the corner once with her right fist. "After all we've seen, how can you trust me as your partner when I let something like that slip by?" She struck the wall with her left. "I've let you down." She gritted her teeth, striking the plaster with her right again. When she drew her arm back, Mulder saw four red streaks on the wall. "I let the Bureau down." He heard a crack as her left hand made contact again. "I've given my brothers the ammunition they need to never let me see my nephews again." Thump. "I let my Mom fall into danger." Thud. "Nichols and Rosen had to go to the other side of the continent because I wasn't able to keep them at Quantico." Thump. 

Mulder frowned at this new information. 

"I've lost everything that matters because I wasn't strong enough." Thud. "Smart enough." Thump. "Careful enough." Gasping, she leaned her head against the wall. "You can't trust me to cover your back anymore. You should get yourself a new partner, Mulder."

In two leaping steps, he closed the distance between them, hovering just behind her. "No." 

She turned to look up at him. "Yes, you should." 

Mulder grasped her wrists before she hit the wall again. "No. You're all the partner I need. You've stood by me when I didn't want it, covered for me when I never asked you to, dropped everything to come and help me find Sam." Taking her by her shoulders, he turned her gently away from the wall. "If you didn't spot the bombs before it was too late, maybe it doesn't mean that you're careless or a failure, Scully, maybe all it means is that you're not perfect. Maybe it means you need a partner, too." His hand on her elbow, he guided her to the sofa. 

Relaxing against the cushions, Scully's eye fell on one of the images of Sam, her dark curls almost as short as her adult brother's. "But looking for your sister is always so hard on you, Mulder. You don't need to get caught up in my problems." 

His hands on his hips, he bent at the waist until his face hovered just above hers, then queried in the gentlest of tones, "Since when did the X-Files become your problem, Scully? I thought they were ours."

She stared at him, waiting while the turbulence in her mind ceased. _Do you think I was pushing you out of the Files? I only wanted you to go find your sister. I only want you to be happy. We do such good work together when you are happy._ One thought rose above the noise, repeating until it drove all others from her. _You called them *ours*. *You* called them ours. *You* *called* *them* *ours*!_

He settled beside her, glancing around the floor at the papers. _I should never have left you alone, Scully._ "I appreciate your concern, but this search for Sam isn't as rough as it once was." He shifted closer to her. _Perhaps this will convince her to let me help._ "You'd say we were a success running the section, you and I?" 

She nodded. 

He lifted his framed print of his eight-year-old sister off the floor to rest it in her lap. "If, with you working alongside me, I could succeed in leading a group without it ending in disaster, then I can follow this trail to Sam without falling apart." He pushed her hair off the gash with his fingers. _Ooh. I didn't realize how far that extended._ "I told you in July that if your work on the X-Files was responsible for your family ostracizing you, Scully, then I wanted to help bring them back to you."

She shifted toward the arm of the couch. "Mulder." 

Clasping his hands between his knees, he stared at one of the folders on the floor. "I know when other agents look at the X-Files, they think of them as 'Spooky Mulder's obsession'." He slid toward her. "But I'm only half the team. If anything, these past few months have let you shine, Scully, let the Bureau see, if they were paying attention, how good you really are." He held her by the back of the neck, surprised that she was trembling as he spoke. "Let me offer you some free advice, for whatever it's worth." 

She nodded. 

Mulder shifted the hand from her neck to her shoulders. "Don't worry about me, the Bureau, or your Mom. Now is the time for you to think about you. You need to put your life back together." He slid his free hand under her curled fingers. "Rather than beating on walls, perhaps you can do something a little more productive with those fists." He moved the hand on her shoulder down her spine to her waist. "If you can make me come to my senses by knocking me around periodically, maybe that's what Bill and Charles need as well." He bent close to her ear. "Brothers can be pretty dense that way, you know." 

She leaned into him. "Oh. Is this the voice of experience?"

Feeling the last of the fight go out of her, he pulled her gently against his chest. "Hum. When we find Sam, you ask her." As she slowly wrapped her arms around his back, he rubbed her shoulder.

Letting the tears she had been fighting off with her rage fall, Scully whispered, "I'm so tired, Mulder, and I ache. I'm afraid..." 

He leaned away from her. "What are you afraid of? Me?" 

She shook her head. "I've been dizzy and nauseous on the plane. I think I'm suffering from a mild concussion, but I knew I couldn't stop until I'd checked on you. I just needed to know you're safe." 

Closing his eyes, he rested his chin gently on the crown of her head as he rocked her. "I am now." He lowered his face to whisper directly in her ear, "Don't feel like you have to shut me out again, ever. Please?" 

Scully's hair caught in his stubble as she nodded. "I'm sorry, Mulder. With the trial and all, I'd forgotten what it was like to be able to lean on someone." She shifted away from him. "Are we all square, you and I?"

He covered the cracked skin on her knuckles with his palms. "After I take care of your lethal weapons, Sugar Ray, and you rest, we will be. The games begin at the goddess' command."

\--o-0-o--

Apartment  
Omonia District  
Wednesday, 1:17 pm

Hearing a rustle from behind him, Mulder shifted to face the hall entrance beside the sofa. "Scully?" 

Blanket wrapped around her shoulders, she stepped into the sunlight. "It's me, the bad penny, back in your pocket." 

He set the folder he had been studying on the floor, then crossed over to her. "How do you feel?" He touched her hairline. "Do you want to check into a hospital? I could call Max and have him set something up?" 

She focused on the stones in front of her feet, her answer offered in a whisper. "No. I just wanted to sleep out here on the couch for a few hours." She looked up at him. "If it wouldn't put you out. It seems they're the only place I'm comfortable anymore." 

Relief flooded him as he guided her back to the wicker sofa. "Sure. I wasn't sleeping anyway." He stepped into the bedroom to pull a pillow off the mattress. 

She had tucked the blanket in around her while he was gone. "Sorry. All those weeks I was home in Alexandria I realized how much I missed the sounds of someone else moving around." 

He nodded. "I know. I missed..." He glanced down at the coffee table, now covered in notes, then chewed his lower lip. "I... Well, let me just say I don't think your Mom sees me as suitable son-in-law material anymore." He met her gaze. 

She held out one hand, waiting to speak until he, sending his gratitude with his eyes, sat beside her, then took it. "Was it that bad?" she asked.

His face was shrouded in anxiety. "Not always." He dropped her fingers to pull his ankles to his hips. "Just, my Mom didn't know what to do with me." 

She shifted closer to him, nodding for him to continue. 

He rested his chin on his knees, letting the stubble scrape the denim. "It wasn't as bad as when I was a kid, Scully, because she wanted to help after we heard about the explosion. On the island, it was always the other way around." He shifted until his back was to her.

Scully held his shoulder, wondering what it must have been like, having to be the adult in the house when he was eight, or six. _Or younger? He's trying to be strong._ "It's okay, Mulder, I want to know." 

He turned back to her. "She hugged me. It felt so good, like she had forgiven me and that she really cared." Agitated, he pushed himself to his feet, then touched his forehead. "Oh, I know up here that she cares, that what kept us apart before was her pain, as well as mine." 

Scully rose, letting the blanket fall away as she reached for his chest, the thin cotton of his undershirt stretched tight over it. "You needed to know down here." Her small hand rested over his breastbone. "You needed to feel it." The torn skin over her knuckles pulled as she closed her fingers into a circle. "Mulder, I never thought that you two couldn't connect again, that you were so far apart that the distance was uncrossable." 

His eyes shining, he was nodding at her words.

She licked her lips. "You both just needed a push to get started. Max was it for her, and being able to search for Sam with hope was it for you." 

Covering her hand with his, he shook his head. "No. Having your friendship, your trust, was it for me, Scully." 

Shocked, she dropped back to the cushions. "You can't mean that, Mulder. I've done nothing but fight you, argue with you. I've not done anything to help you. How could I? I was thousands of miles away these past months." 

"Scully!" 

She looked up. 

As softly as his eyes has held her, they blazed rage now. "Don't say that! I wouldn't be here, or even alive, if not for you." He plopped beside her. "You've given me so much, can't you see?" He settled the blanket around her shoulders. "I've never told you this, but when I thought you were dying at Georgetown, I confronted Saunders, who was trying to retrieve a sample of your blood. He told me to grieve for you and move on. I told him I owed you too much to just do that." He shifted around on the couch, dropping his arms to his knees. "Compared to what we are now, back then, we were only beginning to know each other's minds, to share our thoughts. It all seemed so simple then, so straightforward. But now..." He turned back to her. "Let me retire a little bit of that debt, all right?"

Overwhelmed, her shoulders drooped. "I didn't know, Mulder. I don't know what to say." She nodded, waiting while he tucked the blanket in around her, then adjusted the pillow.

He settled in the wicker chair. "Just take it easy, Scarlet." He grinned. "After all, tomorrow is another day."

\--o-0-o--

Hearing a soft hunh, hunh escape his sleeping partner's lips, Mulder smiled to himself. He'd listened to that sleepy grunt-sigh of hers on countless stake-outs over the years.

 _Better than Jerry._ He grinned broadly at the memories. Jerry Lamana had been a disaster on overnight surveillance duty. Upon passing his watch off to Mulder, the blond man would drop into a deep sleep instantly, then would regale him with long, musical snores and loud arguments he would conduct with himself. It left Mulder afraid they would be detected by the very people they were supposed to be watching. 

A frown crossed his partner's face. "Hum. No. Not now." 

Leaning forward, he focused on her, waiting for more words, or for her to awaken from the dream on her own.

Her eyelids fluttered up, revealing dark pupils aimed directly at his. "Don't want to go to school, Mom. Don't feel good." Her green-blue eyes were wide and unfocused, since she was speaking from the world within her dream.

He smiled. _Not an abduction memory._ Crossing the room, he bent over her, tucking her bandaged arm back under the blanket. "It's vacation, Dana, school's been out for months. You don't have to go to school during vacations." 

Still asleep, she nodded, then rolled over, settling in with a long sigh. 

Smoothing the hair off her face, he felt moisture stinging at his eyes. _Not like Jerry, at all._

\--o-0-o--

Apartment  
Omonia District  
Athens, Greece  
Wednesday, 3:12 pm

Mulder smiled at the sounds of his partner awakening. "Back again so soon, Doctor?" 

She frowned over at him. "Mulder?" 

He closed the folder on his lap. "Right the first time." His grin faded as she sat up. "You should rest, Scully." 

Shaking her head, she placed both feet on the floor. "I forgot." She stumbled toward the bedroom.

Intrigued, Mulder followed her, stepping back from the doorway as she barreled toward him. "Whoa, what's that?" He pointed to the envelope in her hands. "A present?"

Frustrated, she extended the packet toward him. "Pictures of the adoptive girls we've been tracking." She led him back to the images spread over the flagstones. "I'm sorry, I was too tired, or I would have remembered them earlier. Byers finally persuaded one of the agencies to express mail them to him last week, and he dropped them off with me on Sunday. All those great pictures from Mossad should have reminded me sooner." 

Mulder slid on his glasses to peer into the murky prints. "These are the best the agency could do? These? It's a wonder any of the girls were adopted, ever. They all look like ghosts." 

Slipping on her own glasses, she shrugged. "Sorry. They didn't even want to release those. I can't tell you how many times I've heard, 'Closed adoption means just that, closed.' followed by a click." After he sat, she grasped the arm of the sofa to peer over his shoulder. "Do any of them compare, at all?" 

He chewed his lower lip, then pointed with the eraser end of a pencil. "Maybe her." He tipped the image to reflect less of the direct light from the lamp. "Maybe. But I couldn't say." 

She took a seat beside him, folding her knees up to her chin. "It's been so frustrating, this search. I thought the government was good with the bureaucratese, well, let me tell you..." 

His eyes still scanning the photos, Mulder prompted, "Tell me what, Scully?" He cocked an eyebrow at her. 

His partner's eyelids had fallen shut, once again. As he waited, she drooped against him. 

Mulder found himself grinning broadly. _You give 'work till you drop' a whole new meaning._ He spoke her name gently. 

"Murph." The eyes remained tightly closed. 

"Scully, you need to sleep." 

No response. 

Mulder shifted his arm behind her waist. While having her folded like a piece of stationery against him was comforting, to say the least, he knew it wasn't what she needed. "In a real bed." 

"Gurph." 

He smirked. "I'll take that as a yes. Do you want me to carry you?" 

"Nar!" The auburn head snapped up so fast Mulder had to grip the arm of the couch. Scully's progress toward the bedroom could best be described as a cross between marching and swimming, each foot coming up high for a step. 

Mulder snatched the blanket off the cushions, then followed her. "I'll take that as a no."

When he reached her bedside, she was curled up on the pillows, so he covered her with the sheet, then the blanket, tucking the satin edge under the mattress. Before he left, he checked her over one final time. The gold wire frames were pressed into the pillow, so he cautioned her from the doorway, "Scully, glasses." 

There was a half-hearted shrug of her shoulders, then nothing. 

_Good enough._ Mulder stepped back to slide them off. "Sleep well."

\--o-0-o--

Apartment  
Omonia District  
Athens, Greece  
Friday, March 27, 1998  
7:38 am

Dana Scully stretched, lifting her feet to pass them over the arm of the couch, then stopped as the resistance of the blankets increased. Looking around, she realized she was back in the bed, not on the sofa where she had been examining files with her partner. The pressure in her lower abdomen told her she had been sleeping for longer than she had expected she could.

Spotting her reading glasses folded neatly on the side table, she pieced together the sequence of events that must have brought her here. _I remember reading, showing a report to Mulder, one groggy trip down the hall, and..._ She spread her hands, then ran her fingers over the gauze on her forehead. _Oh, Mulder, I'm sorry._ She must have fallen asleep right there, her head in his lap. _I'm surprised I'm not in a hospital bed._

Hearing the wicker creaking, she realized the noise must have awakened her, so she stood, then reached for the doorknob. But a muffled sigh from the other room stopped her, turning her back into the space to make up the bed. She knew those sounds, knew what they meant. She had learned early in their partnership the difference between the stifled cries of terror that his nightmares shook out of him and these. The bed finished, she sat down to wait, but not for long. She heard the television click off, the door to the bathroom close, then the shower start up. 

Then, only then, did she slip into the front room, survey the bright space, and nod to herself. _Just as I thought._ The files and photographs were neatly stacked on the trestle table in the kitchen, the TV pulled out facing the couch. Not bothering with the sound, she powered the unit up just long enough to verify what she knew had been on the screen. _Hum. Japanese. I didn't think they would import, but, unlike America, the Greeks are far from puritanical._

She turned when the bathroom door opened. "Hey." She sent him one of her huge smiles. 

Mulder was standing in the doorway, barefoot and shirtless, the waistband of his jeans darkening as moisture ran down his chest. His hazel eyes flicked from her fingers, resting on the knob to the left of the blackened screen, to her face, his own coloring slightly as he remained in place. "Hey." His gaze settled on the black flagstones, slightly uncomfortable that he had wakened her, that she had worked out what he had been doing. 

Scully padded over to brush his elbow, feeling the heat from the water, ignoring the slight flinch when her cold fingers contacted his skin. "So, how long did I sleep, just a few hours, or did I snore away a whole day?" 

His face snapped upwards, the hazel lighting from their guilty grey to a teasing green, almost blue. "A whole day? It's Friday, Doctor Lazybones." The highlights faded, subsiding to a worried brown as he ran his thumb over the bandage in her hair. "But you needed it. I can buy us some breakfast while you shower, if you'd like to take today off, too." 

She glanced at the haze on the glass of the stall. "Nope. I'll be finished before you can get back, and we can pick something up when we go out." She patted his shoulder. "Don't think I'm passing up a chance to see the Parthenon, G-man."

He kept still in the hallway, treating himself to the sight of her collecting her toiletries for her ablutions, standing until the steam began rolling from under the bathroom door. One side of his mouth turned up in a grin, he headed for the hall closet and his duffel bag to tug out a clean shirt and socks. He had forgotten how much he missed her gentle acceptance of him, flaws, shortcomings, and unmentionable habits all.

\--o-0-o--

Beule Gate  
the Acropolis  
Athens, Greece  
Friday, 9:11 am

Dana Scully huffed as she and her partner climbed the worn marble steps to the top of the city's ancient citadel. They were caught in a shuffling line of babbling visitors, awash in anticipation expressed in several different languages at once. "I thought hordes of tourists were a summer handicap." 

One pace behind, Mulder grunted. "Nope. Max warned me that except for December and January, it's nearly continuous." He checked over his shoulder for their grey-suited shadow. "It's not like DC, Scully, this is the real thing." 

Finally at the summit, she patted the closest block in the base of the Temple of Athena Nike. "I'm almost afraid to walk here, Mulder. I've read about the pollution, and those steps, well-" She looked back at him. "-why haven't more efforts been made to preserve all this?" 

Still scanning behind them, Mulder shrugged. "It's cheaper to argue?" 

When the crowd parted in front of them, the ruins of the Doric temple of Athena Parthenos appeared. Scully gaped, then quickly covered her mouth with her hand. "Even all battered and covered in scaffolding like that, it's still beautiful." 

His eyes sparkling, Mulder gazed down at his partner, sensing more emotions than he could identify. "Yes. I think so, too." 

She glanced up at him. "I'll think you're a shape-shifter if you don't stop doing that." 

Tapping her back, he urged her forward. "Do what, Doctor?" 

As she stepped around a line of collapsed stones that had once been a column, she called back over her shoulder, "Agreeing with me." 

He caught her by the arm. "I need to take your picture." 

She checked behind him. Their tail was strolling around the Erechtheum, so she moved into position, holding herself still through the clicks of the shutter. "You catch his face?" 

Mulder nodded. "Max can have the image forwarded to Mossad."

Scully crossed back over to him. "I'm surprised he followed us up here. It's not like there are many places we could go." She shaded her eyes with her hand. "You don't suppose he's a decoy, do you?" 

As they walked along the rectangular temple, he shrugged. "But a decoy to keep us away from what? The X-Files? The documents have already been scanned by the Gunmen. Our parents? Max has the local constabulary on full alert. The shape-shifters? They've migrated to Africa, for whatever reason. Samantha? We only suspect she's back in the states, probably on the West Coast. If they'd wanted to move her, they would have done it at any time, even back in February when we were beginning to deduce where she was." 

Scully paused, her arms akimbo. "Maybe San Diego? But that's still thousands of women." She walked around in a tight circle. "She didn't like it burned." 

Mulder frowned. "What?" 

She lifted one corner of her mouth. "Athena's altar was about here, Mulder. The priests never burned the sacrifices. The meat was just cut up." 

He smirked. "So the Goddess of War invented pathology, too?" Mulder dodged the elbow aimed at his side. _She's back._

Scully tossed her head. "Then it were sold in the marketplace. This was one of the few times of the year the ancient Greeks ate beef." She checked the groups behind them. "He's still there." 

Mulder blinked, but this time he caught the shift. _I'm not used to you doing that, Scully._ "Oh? I'd follow you into the Parthenon itself, but they're still not letting people inside." He waved at the smaller temple to the north. "Shall we?" 

She glanced up at him. "You want to try plan B?" 

At his nod, they headed for the Erechtheum. Scully concentrated on wandering aimlessly around the Caryatid Porch, using the open space as a vantage point. Mulder had kept the documents, taking his time puttering among the ruins of the Artemesion. She watched through a notch in the corner of one of the marble blocks as the black-haired man in grey began searching around for her. Beside her, an eager group of tourists clustered around their blue-suited guide, who began explaining the space in German. Scully half-listened to the woman, deciphering words from three mandatory years of language requirements for medical school. _I'm recognizing more of the Greek than I am the Deutsch._

She refocused on the bright plaza before her. Grey Suit was circling the Parthenon, having spotted her dark-haired partner. Mulder had moved to the south wall, giving the appearance of fascination with the Theater of Dionysus, which was spread out from the foot of the hill. Two more steps, then Grey Suit was at the tall agent's side. A few brief words were exchanged before the dark figure strode toward the Propylaon Gate and the descent from the Citadel. Scully passed silently through the tour group, around several workers fitting titanium to a column stone, and across the courtyard. 

Mulder nodded at her approach. "Not rebuilt enough for you to take up residence again?" His eyes twinkled as he glanced down at the maroon leather-bottomed backpack at his feet.

Scully crossed her arms. "So?" 

Mulder grinned. "He thanked me for dinner." 

She began tapping her foot impatiently. 

Mulder slung the backpack over his right shoulder. "He warned me not to lose track of you." After slipping the free strap over his left arm, he brushed her elbow with his fingertips. "I thanked him for his good advice. Where to now?" 

Scully angled them toward the north again. "I'd like to take the path to the spring." She checked his face. "So, they're after me?" 

He shrugged. "Or so they'd like us to think. I don't believe it would be this simple." Stopping, he fished a bag of sunflower seeds out of the front pocket of the backpack, then popped one black and white hull in his mouth. "What th-pring?" 

She tipped her head. "What do you mean? Erechteus' spring. The one dedicated to Gaia that's partway down the north face of the hill. I thought you knew all this from Oxford." 

As he tucked the crinkled bag away, he chuckled. "I do." 

She frowned. "Then why?"

Touching her back, he guided her in front of him as they approached a break in the wall, where small signs in several languages clustered around a long red arrow pointed downwards. He leaned over her shoulder. "I've just missed you 'eddecating' me, Doctor." 

They fell in step behind a group of Romanians, who were laughing as they negotiated the narrow descent to the oldest shrine of the Acropolis.

\--o-0-o--

Agora  
Athens, Greece  
Friday, 1:56 pm

Scully knelt to read a marker set in the stones of the path. Her lips moved as she transliterated the Greek, then palmed through the paper-bound guidebook with a blue and black cover they had stopped to purchase. 

Mulder was thoroughly enjoying this fishing expedition with her. Since they seemed to have a partial determination of their tail's intent, they checked in with the FBI Field Office in Athens. There, they had handled Scully's paperwork, deposited the cache of documents in security, then picked up their European network cellular phones. So far, they had visited the Acropolis Museum, the Theater of Dionysus, and the National Archaeological Museum in Athens. While at the Museum, she had stopped in from of a patinaed bronze statue of Athena Parthenos, watching the restorers at work as they cleaned and sealed the metal. The statue's helmet was set back on her head, just as they remembered Scully doing in their shared dream in Arkansas. He had draped the backpack over her arm, then stepped away, whispering that he wanted a photograph in indoor light of the Grey Suit who was lurking one exhibit room behind them. 

In reality, he had wanted to give her this time to enjoy the artifacts. After snapping a few images of the dark man tailing them, he had treated himself to several of her, entranced before the goddess that was her mental image of herself. He remembered comparing the straight, narrow noses, the composed, serene features, the clear eyes of his partner studying the marble ones in the statue, then smiled. _You *are* Pallas Athena, Scully._

Watching her now, Mulder crunched another seed open. "Well? Roman? Byzantine? Turki-th?" The 'sh' came out as a 'th' as he rolled the hull to the tip of his tongue. 

She looked up, squinting into the sun. "No." 

He cocked his head. 

She shrugged. "Modern water drain." 

Grinning, he bent to help her to her feet, relishing even these meaningless gestures of courtesy after so many weeks apart. "So, lunch?" 

She glanced around at the strolling crowds. "Where is he?" 

Mulder pushed his hair off his forehead. "I hate to say this, but you've worn him out. He dropped out back at the Concession stand." He grinned. "I think I saw him buying some lemonade."

She rubbed her forehead. "That doesn't sound too bad." 

Grasping her shoulder, Mulder stopped her. "We can continue this tomorrow, Scully." 

She shook her head. "I'm fine. Just thirsty. It's nice to enjoy the sunshine after being cooped up in a windowless courtroom all day long." She trotted as she retraced their steps. "Besides, don't you think it's time we turned the tables on our guest? Minister Askoras should be resting comfortably by now." 

Grinning, he hurried after her. _I've really missed this._

\--o-0-o--

City Hospital  
Athens, Greece  
Friday, 4:06 pm

After checking with the nurse at the front station, Mulder and Scully headed off toward a pair of guards, who were lounging against the hall wall. The agents could hear a long harangue in Greek emanating from the private room.

Scully waited until there was a break in the verbiage to knock on the door frame. 

The barrel-chested man in the bed extended her arms to her. "Doctor Scully! How kind of you to check in on me." He beckoned her over. "Come in, come in." He turned to the harried assistant Scully remembered from the plane, who was huddled in a folding chair on the side of the bed away from the door. "You remember this lovely American who saved my life. You see, Alexander, awakening to such a vision." He patted his chest. "It made me a new man." 

Alexander barely glanced at the pair before tapping his papers. "But, Sir, the Prime Minister needs you to make a decision on these proposals before the end of the day." 

Askoras waved him off. "Nonsense. I'm a sick man." The Minister reached for Mulder's hand, pumping it firmly. "So, my friend, how do you know my lovely Angel of Mercy?" 

After a glance at Scully, whose right eyebrow had settled well up her forehead, the dark-haired man chuckled. "She's my partner, Sir. I'm Fox Mulder, Special Agent with the FBI." 

Scully crossed her arms. "Minister Askoras, we came here to ask you a few questions, if you feel up to it." 

The thick-armed Greek sobered. "Ah. In your official capacity, of course. So, how may I help you?" 

She dropped her hands to her side. "While I understand if you can't give us specifics, I still need to know. We've been under observation for the past twenty-four hours after our arrival. Are there any projects that you're overseeing in your governmental duties that would explain this?" 

Askoras turned to his assistant. "Alexander?" 

The gangly secretary nodded. "We have counter terrorist proposals in the Greek Parliament that might account for such actions. But, there's only so much I can say." He concluded with a shrug.

Mulder nodded. "I understand." He pulled a card from his wallet. "If you could send any relevant information to this address, we won't take up any more of your time." 

Askoras noted the names on the card. "How do you know my friend Max?" 

Mulder and Scully exchanged a glance before he replied. "Max Lowenberg is my step-father, Sir." 

Before Mulder could step away, Askoras pulled the dark-haired agent into a bear-hug. "Ah, I knew the Fates were on my side. Not only Agent Scully, but you as well." He thumped him on the back repeatedly. "Friends everywhere I turn." 

"Sir." Mulder's voice emerged, muffled by the Minister's bathrobe. "I'll be certain to pass my regards to Max when we return to Santorini." He wiggled free. "Thank you for all your assistance." 

Scully began backing toward the door, hoping to avoid similar handling. "We need you to rest, Minister. Thank you." 

Mulder hurried after her, ignoring the farewells called out after them. 

Scully was scanning the halls when he reached her side, then glanced in the direction of his casual wave. Grey Suit hovered in a waiting area, his face obscured by "Greece's Weekly." They passed in front of him, hearing the paper drop to the table as he followed. 

As they waited for the elevator, Mulder leaned over his partner. "I'm more puzzled now than when we started, Scully. How does Max fit into the picture? I knew the house was under surveillance, but is Askoras the reason?" 

When the doors opened, she stepped in ahead of him. "I wonder what Mom thinks of all this?" 

He shrugged. "She's pretty confused, Scully." Once their descent had begun, he touched her arm, calling her attention to him. "As much as Max and Mom try to help, it's a little more than she can handle." 

She leaned onto the handrail beside him. "I thought you said she'd stay if she could." 

Mulder shrugged. "The travel part of it she loves. Put any of you Scullys near the sea and you're all blissfully happy." He bared his teeth in a grin tentatively, continuing when her lips curved in response. "But she can't understand all the evil she's finding out exists and it makes her feel weak." He bumped his partner's shoulder with his elbow. "Another thing about you Scullys is that all of you hate that with a passion." 

When the car jerked to a stop, both turned, expecting to have to stand silent, enduring more passengers or patients. Mulder hoped briefly for no bleeding trauma cases. But, nothing happened. 

Scully began pressing buttons. "I'm not getting a response." The overhead lights winked out. Both began fumbling for the phone box. 

Finding the flat door first, Mulder yanked it open, then cursed, "The phone's been pulled." 

Scully's hand grasped his shoulder, then passed down his arm, grunting when her fingers raked bare ends of cut wires and a surge of electricity passed through her. "The batteries are still live. If the unit was stolen, it was recently." 

Mulder waved in the darkness until his arm crashed down on hers. "Oh, sorry." He caught her wrist. "It seems the automatic emergency lighting is out, or was never installed." He reached for her waist. "What say we try to reach the emergency door?" 

Scully grasped his shoulder. "Okay, you kneel, Mulder." When he had crouched, she set one foot on the floor in front of him, then draped her right leg over his spine. 

Amused, Mulder shifted until she was balanced, then arched his back. 

"Mulder!" 

He grinned. "Sorry. I thought you were settled." 

She crossed her ankles under his right armpit. "Am I choking you?" 

He tucked his chin over her thigh. "No. Ready?" 

"Um-hum." She extended her arms straight up, crouching when her fingers contacted the cool steel of the ceiling. "Now, walk around in a circle, slowly, Mulder. I'm all right, so don't worry about holding onto me. Use your hands to make sure you don't run into a wall." 

He grunted. "Julie, you take all the excitement out of my trapped-in-an-elevator fantasies, you know that?" 

She pounded his side gently with her heel, once. "Giddyap there, Colonial Affair. Besides, I think our Grey Suit has found a way to put it all back in, don't you?" 

Sobering, he began shuffling. "But again, why?"

They heard voices and running feet in the stairwell. 

Mulder persisted. "Shutting down a whole hospital, just for this?" His shoulder was beginning to cramp. "How's the weather up there, Doctor?" 

She passed her hands back and forth in sweeping motions. "Clear and sunny, thank you. No! Stop. Here it is." She leaned back. "Take two steps to your left, Mulder." After he shifted, she pulled on the handle, set flush in the door. 

The car jerked, setting Mulder swaying. "Jeez, what was that?"

Scully tightened her hold. "You okay?" 

Mulder grasped her knee and thigh, his fingers digging into her jeans. "Yeah. Anything?" 

The answer was a snap as the door swung downwards, followed by a rain of dust. 

Scully spluttered. "I don't see anything, Mulder." 

He coughed. "Maybe if you stand on my shoulders?" 

She grasped the edges of the opening, pulling herself up on top of the car. "I can feel the winches. Ooh." 

Mulder spun under the opening. "Scully?" 

Her voice came, unmuffled, through the opening. "Sorry. I saw sparks in the motor. It must just be static discharge." 

He grasped the booted ankles dangling over his head. "But you don't see any open doors?" 

"There's a tiny amount of light from the sparks. Let me check." A pause. "No, I can't see a thing." 

The car jerked a final time before it began ascending. The motion caught them both off-guard. Scully plummeted through the square hole, scrabbling to grasp the door as she fell. Mulder, directly beneath her, spread his arms to catch her, blocking her fall. The momentum sent their bodies to the steel floor. 

When she heard his soft exclamation of pain and surprise, Scully rolled onto her knees. "Mulder?" She ran her hands over his ribs and hips. 

He was curled onto his side, grunting. 

She slid her hand under his left ear. "Tell me where it hurts. Your head? Your back? Your ribs?" She held one ankle. "Your legs?" 

Mulder heard her questions faintly. The shock of the impact had set most of his nerves off, but no one part of him was screeching as it would if he were truly injured. He drawled what he hoped was an encouraging response. "No fair asking a multiple choice question, Doctor, when the answer is, all of the above." 

She helped him roll into a crouch. "You're saying you just had the wind knocked out of you?" She looked up when the doors began to creak open. 

Two burly orderlies were holding the metal barriers back in the wall as a third shined a flashlight into the interior. "We heard someone talking in here. Any injuries?" 

Mulder leaned on Scully while he stood. "Which floor is this?" 

The white-clad attendant was moving out of the opening when he answered. "Three." 

Scully shifted her shoulder under her partner's arm. "One floor below Askoras."

Once outside, Mulder leaned against the wall. "Check him, Scully." 

The Look she sent him was diminished in its intensity only by the poor light from a tiny window at the far end of the hall. 

He waved at her. "Go. I'll catch up in a minute." 

She turned on her heel, then disappeared.

\--o-0-o--

Mulder was moving slowly up the stairwell, feeling strangely detached from the frantic activity swirling around him. _Without electricity, a modern hospital is a death-trap._ Still recovering, he had stood aside as three battery-powered cardiac units were laboriously hoisted from step to step. When he pushed open the door to the fourth floor, he heard cries from the rooms ahead of him for assistance.

But there was one voice that rang out above the rest. His partner had obviously offered her expertise and it had equally obviously been accepted. 

"I need oxygen, stat!" As her words rolled out of the Minister's room, Mulder wondered what good he could do when he arrived. 

He had his answer when he finally staggered in. 

She appraised her partner quickly, then guided him to the head of the bed. "Mulder, hold this." An IV bag was thrust in his face. 

He gripped it limply. 

Scully grabbed the oxygen canister with the hand pump, then lowered the mask over the Minister's face. After she crawled onto the mattress, she looked up at him. "Hold it high. Now." 

He raised his arm. 

"Good." She resumed pumping oxygen into her charge. 

Mulder blinked as he checked around the room. "Where's the Assistant?" 

Scully shook her head. "The room was empty except for the Minister, who wasn't breathing, when I arrived." 

Although he still felt numb, his mind was working on overdrive. "Why do I have this suspicion that Alexander isn't only working for the Greek government, Scully?" 

A team of doctors rushed into the room, so she turned, updating them as to his condition with a few phrases that utterly baffled Mulder. Scully slid off the bed, taking him by the arm as one of the hospital personnel relieved him of the bag. 

She led him to one of the hall windows. "I couldn't begin to guess, Mulder. How are you feeling?" 

The sense of dissociation had left him, so, fully focused, he bent over her. "I'm okay. In your professional medical opinion, what do you think happened to him?" 

She crossed her arms. "Any one of a number of things, Mulder, from simple smothering to a fast-acting poison." As the lights blinked back on, they both looked up. "We'll know in a few minutes."

\--o-0-o--

City Hospital  
Athens, Greece  
Friday, 4:53 pm

Mulder and Scully had pulled two chairs from the waiting area to beneath the window. 

A pair of the doctors stepped out of the Minister's room. One, slight and grey-haired, approached them. "Doctor Scully?" 

She nodded as they both found their feet. 

He rested his hands in the pockets of his scrubs. "Thank you for your prompt assistance. The stroke was not nearly as severe as it could have been." 

She waved her hand. "Are you certain that it was a stroke?" 

Mulder leaned over the senior doctor. "You can eliminate poison?" 

He held up both hands. "I've run toxological tests, and there's nothing in his bloodstream that shouldn't be there, in the proper quantities as well." 

The dark-haired agent nodded. "Thanks." He took his partner by the arm. "We'll leave you to work, then." After he had pushed the stairwell door open, then guided her in, he spoke quietly. "I think we should head back to Santorini this evening, Scully. I don't like this at all." 

She studied his face. "We should at least call. Max and Caroline should be warned." Prepared to leave, they descended the stairs.

\--o-0-o--

Apartment  
Omonia District  
Athens, Greece  
Saturday, March 28, 1998  
12:17 am

Dana Scully sighed when she heard soft thumps from the other side of the wall. _I knew that couch was too short for him._ Sliding out from under the covers, she padded into the living room. 

Her partner was upright instantly. "Scully? You okay?" 

She sent him a tiny grin. "Yes, and no. That mattress is too soft for me and the sofa would fit Frohike better than it would you. Trade?" 

Mulder swung his feet to the floor. "Yeah, I guess." He rubbed his face, watching her settle beside him. "Max said not to be concerned. He's called a few more old friends in Mossad, so they're onto the problem. This attack on Askoras has them all worried." 

Scully nodded. "With all the security problems at Athens Airport, I'd imagine it would." She dropped her hand to his bare shoulder, covering a tiny scar left there. "Seriously. Take the bed, Mulder." 

After tugging his black T-shirt over his head, Mulder waved at the television. "Nah. You'll adjust." He patted the cushion beside him. "Besides, the wicker creaks." 

Scully felt around under the couch for the remote. "Is there anything good on right now?" 

Pulling the black box out from under his hip, he smirked. "Depends how you define 'good', Doctor." 

She punched him on the arm lightly. "Anything not in Greek or that does *not* feature naked women, Agent Mulder." 

He rested his hand on his chest. "Ooh, such standards as you have, Agent Scully." Mulder settled back, flipping channels. "Maybe we can find 'Andy Griffith' dubbed over. The voice they've used for Barney is even higher than Don Knotts'. There." 

Scully tucked her ankles up on the cushions, shifting closer to his side. 

He glanced over, then twisted until she was leaning against his spine, her chin resting on his shoulder. _She's back._ He knew whatever problems she had were behind her, that whatever challenges lay in the future, they were ready.

Scully reached around him to tap the mute button. "It's better this way. I can just read the actor's lips." 

He grunted. 

The episode was "Opie and the Birdman", as well-skewered by him as an old Trek outing, but in respect for his partner's wishes, he kept from parodying the dialog. Instead, he found himself drawn in by the simple story, until his eyes misted. _It's just an old TV show._ He concentrated on evening out his breathing, not noticing that his partner was shifting, moving more and more of her body into contact with his. The final credits were interrupted for a local commercial.

Scully wrapped both arms around his stomach. "I'm sorry." There were too many things that had gone wrong in his life, too much pain for a single soul to have to endure, for her to want to be specific. _I hope this is enough._

He draped his muscled arm over the delicate, white one that covered his waist to pat the small hand on his rib cage. "Ah, I'll live." He began flipping.

Eventually, they found a videotaped performance of "The Eumenidies," courtesy of a nearby high school in Eleusis, then settled back to watch. The over-sized papier-mache masks and the earnest, if poor, acting set them both smirking, but the lateness eventually caught up with them. 

As Mulder listened, his partner's breathing evened out, then he allowed himself the treat of her chin pressing harder and harder into his shoulder. _Tomorrow, Scully, I have a surprise for you._

\--o-0-o--

Piraeus Harbor  
Piraeus, Greece  
Saturday, 9:04 am

The partners emerged from the subway, blinking at the light and the noise. They were assaulted by the smells of a working dockyard: diesel fuel, fish in crates, gasoline, sweat. Mulder pointed to a line of people waiting to board a low transport ship, benches running along the inside of the hull. There was a small covered area in the center where the line terminated in front of a dark-haired crewman punching tickets. 

After they were processed, Scully led them to the first spot on the bow. "Will this be all right, Mulder? The weather report called for very light winds. We should be in the lee of the islands most the time." 

His lips drew into a thin line, but he said nothing. _This is for you._ He hoped the treat waiting for her would compensate him for the queasiness he was already feeling. 

A few shouted commands, then the walkway was pulled off. The engines spun up, a low rumble that churned water and backed them away from the dock. The cruise boat's horn sounded, sending smaller vessels a clear message of right of way. 

Mulder felt his stomach roil as the ship swayed, but his anticipation more than covered for the discomfort. 

His partner had turned away from him, her crossed arms draped over the side of the vessel, her hair whipping in the slight breeze. "Mulder?" 

He leaned over her shoulder. "Hum?" 

She looked back at him. "Thanks." 

His eyebrows drew together. 

She shrugged. "Nothing specific, just thanks." Her green-blue eyes were alight. 

He nodded, settling back to wait. 

When the 'Aegean Adventure' was well into the middle of the harbor, having negotiated a clear path past rusted oil tankers, smaller pilot ships, and large pleasure yachts, they heard a blast from a commanding horn. The Captain shouted, then the ship turned to starboard, pulling into a gap in a line of waiting vessels. The other passengers were adjusting cameras, loading film and rotating lenses. 

Scully looked back at Mulder. "What's happening?" 

He shrugged, carefully avoiding her eyes. "Dunno, Scully." 

She twisted onto her knees to lean out over the bow slightly. "All I see is a grey warship. Why are all these tourists excited about a Greek navy vessel coming out of the harbor?" 

As they watched, a small gunboat swept through, claxon blaring. The grumbling among the passengers grew. There was no ship immediately behind the first. 

Then they heard the clear, measured call of a coxswain setting a rowing beat. A long, narrow-hulled ship swung into view, three tightly packed rows of oars dipping into the water in unison. A long ram, an eye painted on each side, jutted out from a flattened bow. Two sails, furled for the present, banged against the cross-masts, while the blue and white flag of Greece hung limply from its pole. Most of the waiting vessels had set their engines down to idle. Scully could hear the slap of the oars as they cut into the waves, the strain of wood against wood, the rush of water as the ship was propelled forward.

She stared, enraptured, until the trireme was out of view, oblivious to the clicking of shutters and eager whispers. She rounded on her partner, who had been watching her with twinkling eyes. "Mulder! Why didn't you tell me the Olympias was still afloat?" 

Crossing his arms, he leaned toward her. "The Olympias? I thought we had fallen through a time warp. Wasn't that the Paralus?" He set his face in a serious frown. "Or was that the Salamina?" 

She stood in front of him, arms akimbo. "Mulder! That was the ship built about ten years ago to test our understanding of the ancient classical trireme!" She bent over him. "You *know* that." She poked his chest. "I'll bet you even knew that it was pulling out the harbor today just as this transport was leaving, didn't you?" 

He regarded her somberly, but it was a struggle to keep the grin off his face. "Less than a week back together, and you're already shooting holes in my theories, Doctor." 

Scully sat beside him, stretching up until they were nose to nose, her face twitching slightly at their repartee. "Better than what else I could be shooting holes in."

He smirked. "You said it yourself, Scully, why would anyone get excited about a Greek naval vessel?" 

The white-haired woman to their left tapped Scully on the arm. "Excuse me, but did I just hear you say that it was built as a test? You mean this wasn't for a movie?" 

Scully nodded. "Yes, two scholars from Cambridge had the idea to take what we knew from undersea archaeology and..." 

Mulder settled back, letting his partner lecture the slight woman, a floppy straw hat shading her wrinkled face. _No wonder they keep wanting to pull you back to Quantico, you make a great teacher, Scully._ A small group of English-speaking tourists had gathered around them, so his partner had stood on the bench to be heard by all. Mulder smiled up at her. He could just listen to the sound of her voice and relax for the next few minutes, since they were just two tourists taking in the sights. _No flukemen or werewolves._

He studied the remaining passengers, some snapping photos of their companions, some of the ships they were passing, some curiously watching the group he was a part of. But one hovered just out of sight. Mulder sighed. _Him again._ After glancing up at his partner, he rested his hand on his thigh, pointing in the direction of the semi-hidden dark-suited man. She pushed on his shoulder unobtrusively, so he slid through the group, keeping the tourists between him and their unwelcome listener. 

Scully raised her voice. "The Athenian navy that first sailed out of Athens to conquer Sicily was by far the most costly and splendid Hellenic force that had ever been sent out by a single city up to that time..." 

As Mulder circled the covered bench area, he reflected on how quickly they had worked through the problems caused by their long separation. _Not like it was before._ When they had awakened, cramped from sleeping sitting up, she had readily agreed when he offered to cover the contusions on her arms and forehead. To keep unwanted questions from her Mother to a minimum, she had borrowed one of his long-sleeved black turtlenecks. Mulder crouched below the bench to crawl up behind the dark-haired man, sitting away from the others. 

The agent eased himself up beside the man, sitting so his feet faced away from his quarry's. "Hello." 

The man responded with the barest flicker of surprise. "Greetings." Their tail turned his head slightly as he gestured toward the group at the bow. "Glad to have her back?" 

Mulder leaned close to his ear, growling as he countered. "If anything happens to her or to any member of her family, I will personally take you apart, molecule by molecule." 

The man snorted. 

"Who sent you, anyway? McConnell? Lindhauer?" 

The two names snapped his head around, but the expression was one of confusion, not denial. "I don't know what you mean." 

Mulder slid his jacket back, exposing his gun. "Don't play that game with me. Why did you attempt to assassinate Minister Askoras?" 

The man shifted to face him. "Why should I get involved in such petty politics? The present Greek government is facing a crisis of confidence in its Parliament. Did it ever occur to you that the attempt on Askoras may be happening for purely political reasons?" 

Mulder leaned away, digging in his pocket for his Swiss Army knife. "If you would admit that much to me, those obviously aren't your motives." With a quick swipe, he punctured the spongy hand on the bench. 

The pain registered as a slight tightening of the man's lips. "Why on earth did you do that?" 

Mulder glanced down, watching as a thin red stream rolled down between the man's thumb and forefinger to puddle on the wood. "You're right, purely terrestrial reasons might have something to do with it." He grasped their tail's arm. "I *will* figure out who you are and stop you." He squeezed, feeling solid muscle beneath the jacket. "Count on it." 

The man shrugged. "Oh, I am."

\--o-0-o--

Deck of the Aegean Adventure  
Aegean Sea  
Saturday, 10:12 am

Mulder worked his way back to his partner just as the little group around her was dispersing. He waited until the others had moved to the port side of the ship to view the ruined Temple of Poseidon at Point Sounion. "Well, he's human, and I don't think he was working for the Consortium, at least not the new bunch, anyway." 

She crossed her arms. "So he's freelance? Or does he belong to yet another group we haven't clearly identified?" 

Mulder shrugged. "As if the coup cut loose a raft of associates we don't know about? It's possible." 

Scully tapped her bag with her black running shoe. "You didn't use the counter. How did you know he was human?" 

Mulder slid his hand under her elbow, so they began strolling casually around the periphery of the deck, finally arriving at the bench where Mulder had confronted their tail. The dark-suited man was gone. Mulder dropped onto the bench. "I cut him. He had red blood." He began searching the plank. "It was somewhere around here." 

Scully crouched, peering intently at the surface. "I don't see any fresh stains." She looked up at him, shading her eyes at the sun just below the level of the canopy. "This is the right bench?" 

At his nod, she reached into her bag to lift out a small hand lens. "A parting gift from Rosen." She began searching the wood fibers. "Oh." 

Mulder leaned over her. "What?" 

She tapped a small depression on the wood. "See this gouge?" She passed him the metal-framed lens so he could observe. "It's in the right shape for the bloodstain." 

Mulder handed her back the lens. "So, you think the shape-shifters have worked out a way of generating red blood?"

She nodded. "If we can believe what the Samanthas told us in the Arctic, they had learned to duplicate everything about our bodies for their experiment in Steveston." 

He crossed his arms. "And that knowledge could have been passed on to the later arrivals during their trip to the Great White North. Okay. So where does that leave us?" 

Scully rose from her crouch to sit beside him. "With a trireme's worth of questions and no answers." 

He smiled. "Sounds like fun."

She rolled her eyes.

\--o-0-o--

Naxos Harbor  
Aegean Sea  
Saturday, 2:57 pm

Mulder glanced at the line of passengers descending the walkway. "There he goes." 

Scully lifted her bag from the decking. "Well, I guess this is where we get off, then." She turned when she felt her partner's hand land on her arm. "What?" 

He was shaking his head. "If he's after us, he won't be gone for long." 

The pair slipped to starboard. The dark-suited man was talking excitedly to a vendor selling trinkets off a crate. 

Scully slid her sensor out of her bag to wave it at the two surreptitiously. 

Mulder leaned over. "Well?" 

Sliding the unit away, she sighed. "I can't tell. There's too much metal blocking the signal, or we may be too far away." 

Mulder touched her arm. "He's coming this way." 

They jogged back to their original seats. 

Scully zipped up her bag. "When he's settled, I'll try to take a reading. I've noticed he's kept himself in full sun since you confronted him." 

Mulder nodded. "He bought something, a hand-sized vase replica, it looks like." 

Scully crossed her arms. "Ceramics can be used to contain many things." The signal was given for departure, then the walkway was lifted back to the docks. She leaned over his shoulder. "So, what now, a Phoenician trader, Mulder?" 

He slid his arm onto the railing behind her. "Just the island of Delos as we swing to the south. You care to ask for any auguries?" 

She smiled slightly. "There aren't enough chickens." She frowned. "He's settled. Wish me luck." 

The auburn-haired agent beat a wandering path to their subject, talking to a few of the passengers she had discussed the Olympias with as she worked her way around the ship. Once she was within ten feet of the dark-suited man, now propped against the hull, she passed the sensor up the length of his body once, then returned just as casually. 

She dropped beside him. "He's one of the shape-shifters. They've at least been clever enough to build some shielding into their clothes, I'm guessing probably aluminum foil." 

Mulder grunted. "I thought basically any cloth would work." 

Scully shook her head. "Their bodies are as strong a source as the sun down here, which penetrates light-weight mesh fabrics. When we encountered them earlier, I'm guessing that their clothes were all still a part of their bodies. There was never anything left behind when one of them decomposed, you know." 

Mulder slanted his eyes at her. "Right. Those puddles of green goo you sampled." 

She rubbed her eyes. 

He dropped a hand on her shoulder. "You okay?" 

She waved her hand at him. "More or less." Scully tried sending him a small grin. "I can't say a few days of fun in the sun wouldn't be welcome, but..." She turned to face him. "How much have you told Max and Caroline about the shape-shifters?" 

He blew out a long breath. "I showed them Langly's tape and your spectra. I did my best to summarize what we think we know about the Consortium and the aliens for them." He picked at a splinter on the bench. "Neither seemed as shocked as I might have expected." 

Scully sighed. "They've seen too much, I guess. It's good we still have some allies left." She crossed her arms. "I miss Rosen and Nichols. And Cynthia." 

Mulder rubbed her shoulder. "I'm sorry you had to move the Files to the new Washington field office without me." 

She tossed her head. "No problem. At least now I know where everything is." She pointed at the low island they were approaching. "So that's Sacred Pythia." She shifted around to peer closely at the dark forest. "Looks familiar, doesn't it?" 

Mulder nodded. "At least if we have to do this cloak and dagger stuff, it's better than Alaska." 

She sighed. "Right."

\--o-0-o--

Skala Fira  
Santorini, Greece  
Saturday, 6:47 pm

Mulder hoisted Scully's duffel up onto the bench. She had been drowsing while hanging over the bow, so outside of insuring that she wasn't about to fall in the clear blue waters, Mulder had left her alone. He contented himself with sitting close to her while keeping an eye on the shape-shifter. But the alien had left at Minos, nodding jauntily before he stepped up onto the walkway. 

Mulder rested his hand on his partner's shoulder. "Scully?" 

Looking up at the red cliffs, she stretched. "Santorini?" 

He nodded. "Finally. I knew this was a long trip, but ten hours is more than my quota of sea duty." 

She rubbed her face. "I'm sorry, have you been all right? I hope it's been calm for you." She yawned. "I didn't sleep through any hurricanes, did I?" 

He shook his head. "Actually, it hasn't been bad at all. But you missed sailing around the island and into the caldera." He pointed back to the northwest. "Beautiful." 

She lifted one corner of her mouth. "Yes. The explosion of Thera around 1400 BCE probably sent a tidal wave into all the bays and channels of the Mediterranean. The resulting ash cloud and earthquakes were probably responsible for the rise of the Atlantis legend." 

Mulder smirked. "Or it was a pretty able cover-up." 

She sent him a first-class Look, then smiled. "Okay. You build that time machine, Mister Wells, and we'll go back and find out." 

After Scully adjusted the wide strap so it rested comfortably on her shoulder, they stood. Mulder guided her in front of him. "Not yet. I'm still interviewing for blonde assistants with the proper qualifications." 

She snorted. "I'd think there were only two required, which you could assess with a glance." 

After passing his partner her maroon suit bag, he tugged free his own duffel. "Nope. In-depth examinations, Doctor." 

She waved her hand at the silliness before stepping off the ship. "Are we meeting Max here?" 

He glanced around the piers. "No, they'll be safer if they stay at the house. Besides, your tour isn't over yet. Since our friend disembarked, we don't have to be so on our guard." He pointed to the far left of the planks, where a pair of policemen was waiting. "Max set us our escort." 

They wove their way through crates and exuberant reunions to two men in pale blue uniforms, one of whom took Scully's suit bag, rolled it efficiently into a small packet, then placed it in a waiting cable car. After introductions and polite handshakes, each of the partners climbed in, adjusting their duffel straps so the bulky packs were centered on their laps. Markos, the sergeant to the left of Scully, shouted in Greek until the controller grudgingly yielded, then they were off.

\--o-0-o--

Lowenberg Residence  
Santorini, Greece  
Saturday, 10:24 pm

Margaret Scully, one hand pressing her floppy straw hat down on her crown, peered anxiously up the cliffside road at an approaching cloud of dust. Except for the glimpses she and Mulder had caught on television, she had not seen her daughter since that fateful evening in July, and she was worried. Every image of her red-haired child showed a woman shouldering a burden far too heavy for her, who had become more angular and waif-like than Margaret remembered from the summer. 

Caroline Lowenberg appeared at her shoulder. "It's them, Margaret. Markos just phoned Max. They were taking a short tour of the island on the way here." 

Margaret nodded. "Dana needs the downtime. When I hear from Fox that 'she's fine,' I know perfectly well that she isn't." 

They fell silent as the motorcycle engines drowned out speech. The two agents exchanged handshakes with the drivers, then Dana Scully was caught in her Mother's embrace. 

Mulder slid his arm around Caroline. "How are things here, Mom?" 

She patted his waist. "No surprises yet, at any rate." She jerked her head at a nearby hill. "We have a Mossad spotter on the lookout."

Mulder nodded. "Good. We were followed onto the cruise boat. But, he disembarked at Minos. It's no stretch to figure out where we were headed." He bent over his Mother. "How are you, Mom?" 

She smiled up at his frown. "Rested, thanks. I haven't had any more nightmares." 

He hugged her. "Well, it seems I come by it honestly. then. We'll be back together soon, just have faith." 

She pressed her head against his shoulder. "You have enough for both of us, Fox." 

Chewing his lip, he stepped away for a moment. _I hope so, Mom._

Margaret squeezed her daughter again. "Dana, you haven't been eating." 

Scully's shoulders dropped. "You and Mulder, Mom, make a great Greek chorus on this issue. I didn't have time to exercise, so I cut back on the calories." She stepped back, shouldering her duffel bag strap. "If I tell you I'm fine, you'll pester me like Mulder did too, so let me explain everything to you." She poked the bandage on her forehead. "I may have a slight concussion, but think *slight*. Don't keep threatening me with hospitals like Mulder did. The rest are several deep contusions, one up here, one-" She patted her back. "-on my waist, and my arms." 

The dark-haired woman gasped. 

Scully frowned. "But that's all. I have some bruises, but no broken bones or internal injuries. I'll try to rest while we're here, but things may get busy." She stepped over to her partner. "Okay?" 

Margaret sighed. _For now, that will have to do._ "Yes, dear." 

Max trotted down from the house. "Sorry, that was the Mayor again." 

Mulder faced him. "What?" 

Max shrugged. "Local politics, but nothing as important as this." Max grasped Scully's shoulder briefly. "Welcome to Atlantis, Dana." 

She tossed her head. "I see Mulder's been working on you." 

Caroline laughed. "No, my dear, Max follows the British custom of naming houses." She waved at the white building behind them. "This is Atlantis." 

Max nodded. "While I was in the States, we would rent the place during Holiday season. Thea came up with it." He bent over Scully to whisper. "Marvelous little joke, but I know what you mean."

Mulder began shooing the group inside. "Yeah, yeah. Plato was a liar." 

Scully took her Mother's arm. "No, just not as thorough in checking his sources as he ought to have been." 

When they heard barking from the screen door, Scully smiled. "I'm happy you brought him." 

Caroline nodded as she held it open. "Greece doesn't require a quarantine for pets, and it would have been a great length of time." 

Margaret hugged her daughter with one arm. "Too long."

\--o-0-o--

End - Zurvan - Chapter IX - The School of Hellas


	10. City of Bears

\-----o------------------------------------------------o-----

Chapter X - City of Bears

\-----o------------------------------------------------o-----

I, Christine, concentrating on these explanations of   
Lady Reason, replied to her regarding this passage: "My   
lady, I realize that you are able to cite numerous and   
frequent cases of women learned in the sciences and the   
arts. But I would then ask you whether you know of any   
women who, through the strength of emotion and of   
subtlety of mind and comprehension, have themselves   
discovered any new arts and sciences which are necessary,   
good, and profitable, and which had hitherto not been   
discovered or known. For it is not such a great feat of   
mastery to study and learn some field of knowledge   
already discovered by someone else as it is to discover   
by oneself some new and unknown thing." 

She replied, "Rest assured, dear friend, that many   
noteworthy and great sciences and arts have been dis-   
covered through the understanding and subtlety of   
women, both in cognitive speculation, demonstrated in   
writing, and in the arts, manifested in manual works of   
labor. I will give you plenty of examples." 

excerpted from "Livre de la Citie des Dames"  
(The Book of the City of Ladies) (1405)  
by Christine de Pizan  
translated by Earl Jeffrey Richards

\-----o------------------------------------------------o-----

Lowenberg Residence   
Santorini, Greece   
Monday, March 30, 1998   
7:02 am

Dana Scully tensed at the sound of approaching footsteps. _Just let me rest._ She had scooted out to the east veranda early in the morning, hoping to sleep without her two guardians hovering over her. _Not Mulder, not Mom, please._ She tipped her head to the side when she heard the sound of one of the shade umbrellas clipping into place. 

"Your Mother will never forgive me if you burn, Dana." The deep baritone was rich with Max's British-style inflections, still, after all those years in America, bearing the stamp of formal education in a language that was not his first. 

She felt his hand drop on her shoulder, then she focused on the white-haired man's welcoming smile. "Thanks." 

He chuckled. "They can be a little much, can't they?" 

She nodded. "I'd forgotten. I keep expecting Mulder to carry me from room to room." She tucked up her feet so Max could sit. "How has he been?" 

Max sighed. "Wired. Running on some gear the rest of us had once when we were twelve, or never had at all." He smiled gently. "Just as you warned me he would be. I've never worked with someone who could leap like he does." He bounced both hands along an imaginary surface in the air. "Topic to topic. Making connections we had to force him to explain." 

Scully lifted one corner of her mouth. "I know. Having to run the section was a real challenge. We had to try to bring two other agents up to speed, and we had to make sure we weren't losing ourselves in the process. How has it been with him and Caroline?" 

He chewed his mustache for a moment before responding. "Difficult. They're fine together as long as they're working with clues and puzzles. In fact, she's probably the only one who really understands how he thinks. But as Mother and Son, it's been a struggle." 

Scully interlaced her fingers on her waist, then separated them again, wincing at the twinges. "They're both so needy of each other's love, as it should have been given, not as it was." _They have to reach out through walls of pain to comfort each other. I remember how hard it was for us to do that, even when there was so little dividing us, compared to this._

He nodded. "I'm glad you're here, Dana. You help stabilize him, focus him." He waved his hand over the bruised fingers on her stomach. "But you must recover yourself. You're welcome to stay here as long as you need the rest. I think I can keep him occupied for that length of time." He lifted his eyes to the glass doors when they slid aside. "Hello, Mulder." 

Scully twisted on the chaise lounge. "Hey." 

He was carrying a tall glass of lemonade. "Your Mom made this for you, Scully." He touched the gauze on her forehead. "*You* shouldn't be having caffeine." 

Max rose. "Is there enough for the rest of us?" 

Focused on the woman in the chair, Mulder nodded absently. 

"Then I think I'll have some before Caroline drinks it all." 

Scully met the older man's eyes. "Thanks." 

Mulder settled on the pre-warmed spot by her legs, which were now stretched out again. "It's cool here in the mornings." He rubbed her calf, bare under the shorts she had slept in. "Let me get you a blanket." 

She waited until he had fussed a crocheted coverlet over her legs and hips, carefully tucking it under her shoeless feet. "Mulder, I'll live." She sent him her thanks in a tiny smile. "You and Mom really don't have to make up for the past two months all in a few days."

He opened his mouth to reply, then closed it, settling for silence as he rested one hand on the wool covering her knee. _If you hadn't let yourself get so banged up, we wouldn't have to do this._ A sudden thought appeared. _Just like you wouldn't have to worry if I had kept you informed as to my plans all those times._ He closed his eyes. _You have some changes to make, G-man._

She sipped the lemonade, then set the blue-tinted tumbler on the glass-topped side-table. "So, anything new from the guys?" 

He lifted his face to meet her gaze. "Just Frohike pestering me about you." 

Scully smiled faintly. "He took your fish, you know." 

Mulder frowned. "What? You mean they didn't all die?" 

She shrugged. "No. For a while, I had them over at my place. But when I knew I was coming here, I asked them to watch out for both our apartments. I was surprised when he *volunteered* to set-up an aquarium back at their office." Feeling her muscles stiffening, she twisted on the seat. "I was downright shocked when the three of them showed up, some battery powered bubbler in a two gallon set-up, ready to transport them." 

He grinned. "Those three." 

She relaxed for a moment. "I accused Frohike of wanting to take the fish so they could implant microphones in them." 

Chuckling, he slid a single sheet of paper out of his pocket. "Nah, they probably left a video set-up so he can record my tapes, once and for all." He sobered. "But Pendrell CC'ed me this, with the original to you." Holding out the page, he frowned. "What's he checking on for you?" 

She filled him in quickly, concluding with a surprised, "I wasn't expecting anything back so soon." 

He grinned. "What some guys won't do for true love." 

Scully glared over at his joke before focusing on the words on the page. "Oh. I see." 

He peered over the top of the paper. "What? All that mumbo-jumbo confused me." 

She crumpled up the sheet, then tossed it to the flagstones. "There wasn't a good enough sample of Charlie to test. Bill's and Mel's are being processed." 

He slid closer to her. "So, what does that mean? All you need is a current sample from Charlie." 

She raised an eyebrow. "He won't understand, Mulder, you know that." 

Mulder touched her hand. "Then we have to make him, don't we?" 

She shook her head. "No, I have to. It's my problem. You have to find your sister." 

He shifted until he was facing away from her. "Scully, don't do this." _Stop pushing me away like this._ He grasped her swathed ankles, knowing a direct question was the only way to force her to address this coolness between them. "Why won't you let me help you? You've been distancing me from this problem with your brothers ever since it started." 

She leaned forward to touch his back, the contact bringing him around to face her. "Mulder, I'm your partner, remember? I know how you are. Every time we get close to the issue of Sam you get so, so..." Words escaping her, she chewed her lower lip in frustration.

He sighed. "Irrational? Paranoid?"

Her green-blue eyes cleared. "Tormented. After the last time this came up..." She paused, taking a moment to compose her next statements carefully.

He shifted uncomfortably. _After Lucy Householder, you mean._ "But when your memories were coming back, I was there, Scully, I didn't abandon you, did I?" His eyes were dark, flashing between haunted and deeply afraid, his shoulders hunched, in that pose Scully had imagined him assuming before a raging father.

Her course clear, Scully wrapped an arm around her calves, the blanket falling away since one edge was anchored under her partner's hip. She rested her fingertips on his knuckles. "I know you need the space to deal with Samantha in your own way. The work in the X-Files we do together; we're partners. But this, this search for Sam, has driven you all your life, it's been your quest. I'll do all I can to help, and if it hadn't been for-" She touched her forehead. "-all this, I'd be pushing myself out of this lovely little paradise to sway on camels with you through the Sahara to find her." She dropped her chin on her knees. "But I can't, Mulder, not just yet." She stared off at the deep blue of the Mediterranean, fully expecting him to berate her for her inadequacy, as she felt she deserved.

He reached around to take her by both shoulders. _To admit you're not perfect is one of the most difficult things you've ever had to do. If you have that strength, out of all this, then I've helped you in some small way._

She clenched her fists. "I didn't let the hospital staff check me out because I knew what was wrong with me. The headaches and dizziness I've been feeling are all symptoms of more than a slight concussion, and that takes more time to recover from than either of us can afford to waste." 

A sad little smile stretching his lips, Mulder smoothed her hair away from the bandage. "Scully, you need to understand..."

She settled back, shifting out of his hands. "I know I promised to help you find Sam back in DC before we went to the Arctic, but all I can do now is stay out of your way until I'm well. In a little while, I'll be able to stand guard over our parents, if you want to return to the States and continue with the search. The Gunmen have things fairly well in hand, but I can't ask you to chose between us, Mulder. After you thought you had lost her on the Bethesda bridge..." 

He shook his head. "She wasn't even a clone of her. She was just supposed to look like her. They both said as much in Franklin Bay." He reached over to grasp her wrist. "But as far as my leaving you behind, forget it."

She arched one brow. "What? But Mulder, if you need to go, go! I couldn't live with myself if you lost an opportunity to find your sister because of me."

He edged up the seat, leaning until he was as much in her face as during any one of their arguments, or when they were trading jests. But his eyes were their darkest, drained of any mirth or anger. "I don't think we have to worry about missed chances." 

She returned the gaze unblinkingly, focusing first on one pupil, then the other. "What? What do you know that you haven't told me?" 

He shrugged. "It isn't what I know, it's what I've figured out, I think." 

She pressed her back into the cushions. "What?" 

He rose, pacing as he composed his thoughts. _She'll want this step by step, and I'll have to convince her with logic, not intuition._ He stopped at the foot of her lounge, his hands clasped behind his back, prepared as if for an examination by his professors back at Oxford. "We don't know who is in charge of the Consortium right now, the group we think we had uncovered, or Morley Man." He licked his lips. "Think about the new leaders of the Consortium. While they occasionally act on the spur of the moment, as they did in Miami-" His face colored momentarily. "-none of them are deliberately cruel or capricious. The most outstanding characteristic they seem to share, especially with our Cigarette-Smoking friend, is an infinite capacity for plans and schemes. Mom told me how much he was like a Grandmaster in chess, always move and counter-move. She said he never liked to proceed without double and triple redundancies in his preparations." 

Looking up at him, she nodded. "Based on what she's told me, I can certainly agree with that."

He shifted his weight to one foot. "Also, they seem to only like to act against us when we're separated, isolated from each other, or from any outside resources. They tried to take you when you were apart from me in Miami, and again when you were on your own back in DC." 

She rubbed her hairline. "Mulder, that was my mistake, not any manipulation on their part. I thought I could handle the trial on my own." She let her head drop back onto the cushions. "I was wrong."

He settled beside her again. "But how can we be certain of that? We've been manipulated from the first, by Deep Throat, then by Saunders. How do we know this isn't more of the same?"

Scully's green-blue eyes narrowed as she reviewed the events of the past few months. "Maybe you're right about this, Mulder. But how can we tell? It's like we're pushing on play-dough. Sure, if we work hard, we take away crumbs, little fragments of knowledge. How do we get the whole picture?"

He grasped her wrist. "We need to beat them by acting in ways they don't expect. I've been spared because I've not been alone, not with the help you and all of them have given me." He waved his hand at the house. "No doubt they're anticipating that I'll follow my usual behavior now and ditch you here to look for Sam." He shrugged. "What they have in mind then, I couldn't begin to guess." He crossed his arms before he stated flatly, "We need to stick together, Scully. That means I wait until you're well. I can't forget what happened when we both tried to go back to work too soon in August." 

She raised her chin. "Okay. I agree that if they wanted to keep us from finding out about her we wouldn't have proceeded this far in the investigation. But what if they're waiting for you to find Sam just so they can take her away from you for good? To try to break you?" _And me._

He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. "But what would that accomplish? With the data on the Net, with the trial transcripts, with what we've given Matheson, we've proven too much, exposed too much, for a threat to Samantha to silence me. If anything, I'd push for more disclosure, not less." He looked over. "Besides, if they're waiting to snatch her just before I find her, then the timetable is ours to set, not theirs." 

She crossed her arms, rubbing them to warm them. "Okay. I won't force you to go, Mulder. I never could make you do anything you didn't want to do." 

He was regarding her with that dark, anticipatory expression which shielded his thoughts from her. "As for Sam, Deep Throat took her out of the Consortium's control. Saunders told us no one was even certain where she was right now, so even if we did break into their data files, I could never find her from their records." He grasped her wrist. "I know that from what your Father told me at the Solstice. We *will* find her by working together. I wasn't sure I believed that then, but after what we've learned since, I'm certain of it." 

Scully rubbed the back of her neck slowly. _I can't win the paranormal argument with him. I won't even start it._ "I'll let you keep that certainty for both of us. All I'm sure of is that we have real clues here, and if we keep at it, we'll find her." She reached for his hand to move it away from her arm, where it rested as if glued. "What about those new files?" From the distant, unfocused set to his face when he turned to her, she knew he was looking inward, to the past.

His jaw firm, Mulder leaned over her. "No one will make me chose between you two. No one, not even you." He cupped her cheeks in his hands. "No one."

She turned toward the table and the tumbler, sliding her chin out of his grasp. "I hope it doesn't come to that again, Mulder." She sipped the lemonade again, seeking to distract him. "This is good." 

He was still studying her carefully, still wearing that expression she could never fathom. _There. I think I've shown her how things are different, how the rules have changed._ "You can tell your Mom." He waved toward the glass entrance. "Hi, Mrs. Scully. I found her. She's all right." 

Scully raised an eyebrow at the changes in her partner. His voice had shifted from the deep, near-baritone he employed when discussing options seriously with her to the carefree little-boy tenor she had always known him to use around Margaret Scully.

Margaret had been watching from the door. _Bill spoke to Fox last Christmas? Forced to make a choice? What on earth had happened with them?_ "I can see that, Fox." She bent over the top of the lounge to run her hands over her daughter's hair. "Now, shoo, honey, before you catch a chill. Breakfast will be ready soon." 

Playing along, Scully rolled her eyes. "And to think I came out here to escape all this fussing." 

Suddenly serious, Mulder extended his arm, but smirked when she draped the blanket over it. "You're stuck with us both, Scully."

She lifted one corner of her mouth. "I thought that was what Blevins wanted all those years ago, Mulder." 

Margaret Scully rested her hand on her daughter's shoulder, but her eyes fell on the dark-haired man by Scully's feet. "Fox, if you don't mind, I'd like to speak with Dana for a few minutes." 

Immediately, his brows knitted, so he searched first, his partner's face, then her mother's, returning to his partner's. 

Scully's lip twitched, then her face slid into her 'I don't want to deal with this either' mask. 

He nodded. "Okay." 

Margaret hastened to reassure him in language she hoped he recognized. "Don't worry, I'm only planning on commenting on your finest qualities to my oblivious daughter." 

As he stood, he chewed his lip, then responded, "That's what I'm worried about." He held his partner's gaze before he stepped away. 

Margaret took his place by her daughter's feet, leaning toward her as she began. "Dana, I know you don't want to hear this, but..."

The younger woman had curled her self into a tight ball. "Mom, I'm fine. I just need some rest, that's all. You and Mulder should stop coddling me." 

Margaret's fist crashed against the glass tabletop. "Stop lying, Dana, you aren't fine! I heard you tell your partner about the nausea and dizziness. I'm your Mother! Why won't you come to me with these things?" She crossed her arms. "I made you, carried you for nine months, I have a right to know." 

Scully hugged her knees. "Mom, I am an adult, and a doctor. If I thought I was putting you..." 

Margaret bent over the agent, her expression fierce with protectiveness. "That's not the point here. After what I've seen in the documents you four keep passing around." She stood as she threw her arms out. "This treating me like a silly little girl has to stop. I just can't accept this, this passivity you keep forcing on me. As a Navy wife, I was always prepared for the worst. Always. But, if I believe what you four have been working on, so many more will be lost." 

Scully rose reluctantly from the warmth of the cushions. "Mom, it's so hard to know how to tell anyone all of this. You know how it is in the military." She began pacing by the pool's edge as she answered, "Never talk about the things that really matter, always keep everything on the surface, light-" She waved her hands in frustration. "-pleasant, cheerful." She stood in front of the older woman. "Never speak of tragedy, because you might be next. So, with you, Bill, and Charlie, I don't. But with Mulder, it's different." 

Margaret had tugged the blanket off the chair, folding it in quarters before she threw it down on the flagstones. "How? Don't you think I want to know what's going on? Do you think I like being kept in the dark, being told to go make coffee or look after the grandchildren while you two collect evidence that says our very way of life, our values and ideals are all a sham? Is that what working with him-" She gestured angrily at the sliding glass door. "-has brought you to?" 

Scully crossed her arms, stepping up to her mother. "No, Mom, it hasn't." She reached out to grasp Margaret's hand, but the older woman turned away. Scully arched both eyebrows, studying the flagstones before she continued softly, "Mulder is one of the most idealistic men I know."

Margaret spun, listening carefully. 

Scully shrugged. "Part of the reason I tell Mulder everything is that's what we need, as partners, to do." She took a step closer to her Mother. "If I'm feeling dizzy, or weak, and I can't work through it myself, then I would be putting our lives at danger if we had to go into a difficult situation." 

Margaret closed her eyes, willing herself not to think that every one of her living children took far too many risks.

She reached for her mother's arm. "Partly, we haven't told you because we're never certain how much we're observing is real or how much is hearsay and confabulation." She walked back to the lounge, settling down gingerly. "We walk a fine line, Mulder and I. He pulls me over to check out something, that if it were real, would revolutionize some field of human understanding, or shatter comfortable fictions. I tug back, making him look carefully at all the logical pit-falls inherent in what he wants to believe. If between us, we can come to a consensus, then we know we've found truth in all the confusion."

Margaret crossed her arms. "So that's what this is all about, solving some puzzle? Don't you know what this life he's chosen has done to him, and what it's doing to you?" 

Scully nodded. "It's been rough for him, hasn't it?" 

Margaret began pacing. "I never knew how bad it was until now. I'd hear noises outside my room, open the door, and here would be this ghost of a man, prowling the house in the middle of the night. I don't see how he functions like that. I don't understand how you've put up with it for so long." 

Scully reached down to retrieve the blanket. "We just try to be there for each other, Mom, it's all we can do. If we dwell on fear, we'll both just go quietly insane." She hugged the coverlet tightly. "Perhaps now you understand..." 

Margaret settled by her daughter's feet. "Maybe it's not enough. Perhaps now you need to stop to deal with the emotions, the damage this is all doing." 

Scully shook her head. "Not now, but soon. Once we find Samantha, Mulder will have no choice but to make some changes in his life. Maybe then he'll have the time and energy to work through the ramifications of all we've learned." She rubbed her face. "Maybe then I will too."

\--o-0-o--

Lowenberg Home  
Santorini, Greece  
Monday, 1:24 pm

After resting her unfolded reading glasses on the desk top, Scully leaned back in the carved padded chair, then sighed. 

The metallic click had Mulder, who had been pacing while they waited for the latest download from the Gunmen, hovering over her. "Scully, you okay?" 

She stopped massaging the bridge of her nose to cock one eyebrow at her partner. "Most women would think that having a mysterious and handsome government agent attending their every need *more* than just okay. But in this case - " 

"Would two make it better?" 

Both turned to the entrance. 

Hand extended, Yuseph Hiram crossed to the desk. After introducing himself, he grinned. "You must be Dana Scully." 

Edging closer to his partner, Mulder crossed his arms. "What brings you here?" 

The tanned man half-turned toward the door. "Something potentially serious, I'm afraid. I've already given the documents to Max, but I wanted you both there when we discussed it."

\--o-0-o--

Max and Caroline were holding hands while waiting on the deck, she wearing her frightened, anxious mask that dropped Mulder's heart to somewhere near his heels.

The dark-haired man was at his Mother's side in two leaping steps. "What is it, Mom? More bad news on Sam?" 

Her face cleared. "No, Fox, not that at all. Something a little more recent." She looked to their guest. "Yuseph? Would you mind?" 

The Mossad agent waved the partners to seats at one of the glass-topped tables. "While following up on the Silverbergs, I contacted several of the agents working on the Swiss antiquities cases." He glanced at Max, who nodded him on. "There have been many, irregularities, shall we say, in how these supposedly secured accounts have been maintained, audits when none were called for, access to the accounts by unqualified persons." 

Mulder was on his feet. "Someone's been at the D'Amato papers themselves." 

Hiram held up both hands. "No, not in specific. But the vault in which those documents have been stored was compromised. Before the materials are moved to a more secure location, along with everything else that was there, the officials have - " 

Scully rose as well. "Why didn't the bank come forward with this? A compromise of their physical security involves more than just us, or lost Jewish properties." Her green-blue eyes flicked to Max's face. "Sorry." 

The white-haired man shrugged. "The Swiss are very conscious that this compromises their integrity and the image of quiet competence. I suspect this information was given in absolute confidence by unidentified sources." 

The Mossad agent nodded. "In that packet-" He pointed to a black folder on the glass. "-are internal documents tracking accounts handling. I've brought them to you to check over, to look for suspicious or unauthorized access." 

Scully sat to begin thumbing through the contents. "Why us? Admittedly these are our accounts, but why not work with a bank official or an agent who specializes in financial irregularities?" 

After a quick glance at Mulder, Hiram stepped behind her chair. "It's the unique nature of these materials that required I bring them to you, Agent Scully." Bending over her, he flipped several pages to point to a series of entries. "These, for instance, are in a slightly different handwriting from the pages previous or following." 

Scully looked up at his sparkling dark eyes. "And you have no idea who this individual is?" 

Kneeling, he held the edge of the table as he gazed up at her. "At present, no. We're working on acquiring handwriting samples from current and past employees, but that takes time." 

"Shouldn't you be getting on with it, then?" Mulder was gripping the back of Scully's chair with both hands. 

Hiram rose to return the dark-haired man's glare. "That's exactly what I intended to do, after I dropped these off with you." He dropped his eyes to Scully's. "There's an officer in the Bern Police Department, a Gunther Klaus, who is working with us on this case, should you need to speak to someone in the country." 

Caroline moved to the Mossad agent's side. "You don't need to be in a hurry, Yuseph, you've only just arrived." She turned her head slightly to catch the frustrated set to her son's lips. "Stay for some lunch." 

Mulder began shifting his weight from one foot to the other, his eyes moving from the top of his partner's head to the Mossad agent's back. 

Smirking slightly at the other man's discomfort, Hiram took Caroline's hand. "No, I have work to do. Some other time, though, I'd be delighted." 

Max rose. "Then I'll show you to the door."

Hiram nodded his farewells, shaking hands with Scully prior to his departure.

Mulder watched until he disappeared into the darkness of the interior. "Good riddance." 

As she turned to the pages in the report, Scully rolled her eyes when only Caroline could see. 

The older woman smiled back.

\--o-0-o--

Lowenberg Home  
Santorini, Greece  
Monday, 10:11 pm

Scully stood in the doorway of her Mother's bedroom, uncomfortable with what she had come to do. "Mom?" 

Margaret was just lifting her latest quilting project from the bulging cloth bag she took with her on nearly every long trip. "Yes, Dana?" 

Scully moved forward, fingering the covered padding in her mother's hands. "Who is this for?" 

Margaret looked down at the squares of white cloth, then smiled. "Oh, just a way to thank Max and Caroline for my stay here. Everything bleaches in this sunlight so, I thought, why not make a double ring pattern in different shades and textures of white?" She began to spread the scraps of fabric over the bed, chattering happily for a few minutes. 

Scully clenched her hands in her lap. _She needs something normal._ These elaborate crafts projects bored her, as a rule, but for what she had to ask, she would put up with whatever her Mother needed to tell her. 

Margaret stopped, no longer able to ignore her daughter's restless fingers. "Dana, say what you wanted to say to me." 

Scully looked out the wide windows in the room to the rock garden on the slope beyond. Recognizing the hairy and creeping thymes cascading over the red boulders, she fell silent. 

A touch of her mother's hand to her shoulder interrupted her thoughts. "Dana? Are you feeling well, dear?" 

Scully sighed. "Oh, just a little tired." She rose. 

Margaret rubbed her side. "Is it your head again?" 

Scully crossed over to the window, seeing the pale blue blossoms on the prostrate rosemary for the first time. She crossed her arms, speaking without turning. "Mulder tells me you won't let him look at Ahab's diary. Is what is says about him and his family truly that terrible?" She shifted to catch a reflection of her mother's face in the glass. 

Margaret had moved over to the olive-wood secretary in the room to hover protectively in front of the left side. "Dana, I'm not sure what you mean." 

Scully walked over to her, reaching for the deep drawer on the bottom.

Margaret caught her by the wrist. "Dana, no!" When she realized she had shouted, Margaret covered her mouth. "I mean," she whispered, "not yet. Please? As your mother, I'm asking you not to question me about this again." 

Scully backed away to the door. "Okay, Mom, but if it's about Ahab, I need to know. I'll see you in the morning, all right?" 

Margaret simply shook her head, then turned back to her quilting.

\--o-0-o--

Scully shivered, feeling a brooding presence in the room. She threw off the covers, then stood, searching for her SIG in the nightstand drawers.

"Looking for this?" 

She spun, hearing a female voice. Her weapon was spinning on its barrel tip, balanced on the index finger of a breathtakingly beautiful woman, whose sleek black hair fell in spiral curls to her waist. As the figure approached, the flounces and ruffles, running in layers stacked from the floor to just above her waist, rustled with every sinuous step. 

Scully reached for the gun, hovering in front of her, then drew back. The dress ended just below the ivory hemispheres of her breasts, leaving them full and free. But what gave the agent pause were the snakes coiled down each arm, their several heads hovering around the extended palm. 

The auburn-haired pathologist's jaw set. "I've seen you." 

The kohl-lined eyes widened. "We keep coming back to that, don't we? Of course you have." 

Scully crossed her arms. "I know you. You're the Minoan snake goddess. I've seen your statues." 

The figure tossed the SIG contemptuously, sending it on an arc to land in the open drawer. "They're still a few around? I'm flattered." 

Her hands clenched by her sides, Scully advanced on the woman. _Well, Mulder, let's try a little of that directed dreaming you keep telling me about._ "Why are you following me? You, the Inuit woman I saw in Alaska, all the others, you're all different faces of the Mother Goddess. Why are you after me? You know I can't have children."

The woman extended her arms toward Scully, the snakes flaring into protective fans. "Oh, like that's the only thing women are good for?" 

Scully stopped, opening and closing her mouth in surprise. "What?" 

The goddess lowered her arms, the snakes slithering back up them until they were draped around her neck like a wide, black collar. "You heard me. Women are good for more than just giving birth. You know that, deep inside. Oh, that's all most women are ever encouraged to think is the meaning of their lives, but were it not for us, how would civilization ever have happened? Who do you think found the seeds that grew to grains and fruits to feed their families, tamed the animals who live with us." She cooed, brushing her hands lovingly over the serpents on her shoulders. "Who would have turned skins into clothes, flax into linen?" 

Scully crossed her arms. "So? What does this have to do with me?" 

The slender figure was fading, her parting words a breath on the night air. "Perhaps you should think about what you can do, rather than what you can't." Only the translucent whiteness of her skin was visible now. "Remember, Dana, what you can..."

\--o-0-o--

Lowenberg Residence  
Santorini, Greece  
Tuesday, March 31, 1998  
1:03 am

Margaret heard the familiar, ominous click of the bedroom door down the hall. _He's up again. Wherever he's going, he won't sleep the rest of the night._ She sighed. _And neither will you._ She had to confess, her conversation with her daughter was the last straw. Max was the dearest man she could imagine, always considerate with her, never forgetting the gift he had been given so many years ago. In return, she had been supportive, gracious, with Caroline and Fox, but enough was enough. The white-haired woman was beginning to deal with her pain. But, according to Dana, the only solution she and Fox used was sweeping their problems aside until they turned into lurking monsters all on their own. 

She opened the bedroom door, just a slit between the frame and the edge, yet it was enough. Fox Mulder was hovering outside her daughter's room, one hand on the doorknob. 

He was calling anxiously into the darkness. "Scully? You okay?" 

Margaret could hear the fatigue underlying the concern. 

There was no response. 

Mulder pushed the door inwards, disappearing slowly into the blackness. "Scully?" 

Margaret followed. When she entered, she saw him standing at the head of Scully's bed, gripping the carved wood of the frame tightly. Her daughter was sprawled diagonally across the mattress, one leg hooked over the covers, gooseflesh standing up on the calf. Her hair was in wild disarray, one arm thrown up around her head, the other holding the pale sheets and black wool blanket over her chin. 

Mulder looked over when he realized he wasn't alone. "I heard her." He spoke in a disconsolate whisper. "She has..." He struggled to find adequate words, but failed. "She has dreams." He slid the blanket from beneath her ankle, pulling it toward him until she was covered again. 

The dark-haired woman nodded, her earlier thoughts pushed aside. _Oh, Fox._ "She hasn't told me about any since last Christmas in Annapolis. Is it always this bad?" 

He rejoined her by the foot of the bed, draping an arm around Margaret's shoulders. "Sometimes." 

The simple admission startled her, so she leaned in closer. 

He bent toward her ear. "Not that she'd say, of course." He padded over to an armchair, settling in. "You need to go back to bed. I'll stay." When she reached across him to rest her hand on his shoulder, he shrugged. "I've had about as much sleep as I need tonight anyway." 

Margaret nodded. "When she gets back, she should talk to someone. All this fear locked up inside her isn't healthy."

Mulder sat up, perfectly straight, fixing her in a stare that was part denial, part accusation. _Besides me?_

Margaret read the message his face was broadcasting, then closed the door quietly as she left.

\--o-0-o--

Tuesday, 2:41 am

Feeling trapped, Scully threw the covers off her. 

"Hey." The offer was soft, tentative. "You okay?" 

She frowned at the man in the chair. "Mulder?" 

He smirked. "It heartens me to know that my name is the first word past your lips on such a regular basis, Scully." 

She waved one hand at him, then slid off the mattress to walk to the door. "We need to talk." 

He followed her into the study, waiting until they had both settled on the couch in the corner. "Okay, I'm listening." 

She arched both eyebrows. "It heartens me to hear you say that, Mulder." 

His right cheek twitched at her parry, but he kept silent. 

"I had another one of those dreams." She tucked tangled strands of hair behind her ear. "Whatever you think they are, there's something more I need to deal with here, something that remains undone before I can move on." 

He shifted to prop his head up with his arm, tucking his foot under his hip. "Well, that's something we can both agree on. What was this one about?" 

After recounting the content of her night's experiences, she eyed him cautiously. "I had a couple while you were here and I was back in DC."

He cocked his head. "Oh? Why didn't you call me about them?" 

Turning sideways on the divan, she pulled her knees up to her chin, unconsciously ducking behind the wall her muscles and bones provided. "Uh, don't laugh when I tell you, please?" 

He straightened. _This is serious._ "Okay."

Her left eyebrow had dropped so low that the eye itself was closed, while her right arched higher than Mulder remembered seeing for a long time. "In one of them, I shot the Virgin Mary. While she was pregnant." 

Mulder blinked, then coughed, struggling to keep a smirk off his face. 

Scully rose suddenly. "I knew you couldn't take this seriously, Mulder." 

Before she could walk away, one long arm shot out to grasp her wrist. "Yes. Yes I can." He tugged her back to his side. "Sit. Sit, please." 

She held herself rigid, unwilling to move away, or settle. 

Mulder licked his lips. "Dana, please, talk to me. You have to admit, it's not exactly the easiest..."

Closing her eyes, she dropped beside him. "Oh, I didn't intend to. I was testing as to whether this was a holographic projection, or whether I was hallucinating." She met his gaze to see the hazel still sparkling with faint amusement. "I was afraid my water had been drugged, or I had been given some hallucinogen, the way you had been." 

Mulder rubbed her shoulder. "I have to say, only you would attempt an experiment during a dream," he agreed as he shrugged, "or whatever this was." 

Scully's chin disappeared behind her knees again. "Oh, you think these are all some actual manifestations of the Mother Goddess, no doubt." 

Mulder frowned. "While it heartens me that you're willing to consider extreme possibilities, Scully, I'm not sure I follow you." 

Dropping her feet to the floor, she crossed her arms. "Sorry. After I woke up, I checked some of Missy's books on ancient religions. The Inuit woman, the Virgin Mary, Artemis, and this Snake Goddess, are all considered different aspects of a universal Mother figure." 

The dark-haired agent cocked his head. "Artemis? But wasn't she a virgin who lived in the woods?"

Scully rubbed her upper arms. "Great is Diana of the Ephesians. In her Asian aspect, she was a goddess of childbirth and fertility. She muttered about my not being ready yet for something."

Mulder nodded. "Jung talked about that, too." He held up his hands. "Look, I'm not going to Troi you and say you have some hidden conflict in your psyche about your religious heritage. That'd be pot and kettle." 

She shrugged. "So? No brilliant answers?" 

He shook his head. "You were right in the beginning. You need to see where these take you. I know I'm asking something hard for you, but just relax. Don't try to take charge of what happens. Let the dreams run their course. We'll talk about them afterward." 

Scully sighed. "Mulder, with Samantha and all..."

He rubbed his neck. "Don't start that. I'll be here; I want to help." He bent forward, whispering in her ear. "Just stop shooting things, all right?" 

She tipped her forehead toward him. "Mulder, you realize all this may be fatigue and this." She tapped the bandage at her hairline. "Every time one of these dreams has come, I've been injured..."

He nodded. "Or under stress. I know. Or, it may be as simple as your intuition attempting to puzzle out the Consortium connections through some rather unusual imagery. But they may be something else, too. After Fordyce and how your memories came back to you, you shouldn't want to shut this down." He stood. "You should sleep, Scully." At her cocked eyebrow, he held out his hand. "That's way the only way you'll recover, you know that. Besides, I need a run right now." 

She rose. "Just stick to the path, okay? Let me know when you're back. We don't know whether that shape-shifter is on the island." 

He grinned. "Yes, Immanent One." 

She rolled her eyes as they walked back to their respective rooms.

\--o-0-o--

Lowenberg Residence  
Santorini, Greece  
Tuesday, 2:26 pm

Her glasses partway down her nose, Scully has curled up on the sofa, spreading the documents from the latest Swiss report around her. She was puzzling over a hand-written notation in German. _I can't quite read this..._

Mulder, sprawled out on the floor, had looked over when he heard her muttering. "Found something?" 

She dropped onto the carpet by his chest, her finger under the word in question. "Can you make this out?" 

He pushed his glasses up to his brow, then rolled onto his back, holding the paper in sunlight. "No, Scully, I can't. Maybe..." He sprung to his feet, then out the door. "Mom!" 

Scully lifted one corner of her mouth at his bellow. _No wonder Mom didn't know what to do with him._

Her partner was in the living room now, still chattering, "Mom! Oh, hey, can you read this?" 

Scully trotted into the airy space, nodding to Max, who was smiling at the intense looks on the faces of mother and son. "Caroline? Does it make sense to you?" 

The white-haired woman was holding a pearl-handled magnifying glass over the text. "The author, in some truly atrocious lettering, has written, 'Nein, nicht so,' here in the margin." She ran the lens down the page. "Here, in the same handwriting, the author's crossed out this two and written 'eins' above it." 

Mulder shrugged. "So, the Swiss like things correct. I thought that was why they were good bankers." 

Max shook his head. "No. That's German. The Bernese dialect uses French counting words." 

Looking from Scully to Mulder, Caroline read the confusion on their faces. "My apologies, children, each region of Switzerland has its own unique language, usually taken from some combination of French, German, and perhaps Italian. These documents are from the Kantonalbank in Bern. A local employee working there would hand-letter corrections in Bernese, not Deutsch." 

Mulder nodded. "So, we have to ask, why were Germans looking at twenty-year-old Swiss banking documents? The victims' reparations committees would find this stuff too young to be of interest." He eyed Scully cautiously.

She stuck out her chin. "No way, Mulder. You're not ditching me here to run off and harass all those buxom Swiss maids on your own." She turned to Max. "How soon can we leave?" 

He checked his watch. "We can have you to the airport in three hours, if you need to. Caroline?" 

She looked up from gathering her notes. "If you and Margaret would be safe here, I'll go with these two. I have full access to all the pertinent accounts. We stored these documents with your papers and notebooks, Fox, so there's double reason to be concerned."

Mulder was aghast. "Mom, you don't have to do this if you don't ..." 

Following a quick wink at Scully, she smiled up at him. "After all, Dana's right. You *will* need a translator to woo all those 'buxom Swiss maids.'"

Mulder was waving his arms. "But Mom, it's still cold there! What if we get snowed in and can't get back out?" 

Scully arched a brow. "Oh, Switzerland in springtime. What*ever* shall become of us? How*ever* shall we amuse ourselves?" 

The dark-haired agent looked from the white-haired woman to the auburn-haired one. "I'm outvoted here, aren't I?" 

Max chuckled. "Out-flanked and out-maneuvered, Mulder. If you ever find a wife, these two will have been excellent training in displaying good humor in the face of defeat."

\--o-0-o--

Train Station  
Bern, Switzerland  
Tuesday, 8:02 pm

Caroline pointed up the limestone sidewalk. "Our hotel is that way." She looked back at her son, who was struggling with his duffel and her suitcase. "Are you certain you can handle all that, Fox? We could hail a cab." 

Scully stepped from behind him, her suit bag bulging with wool and cotton. "He's fine, Caroline." Tossing her head, she smirked. "Usually, he drags our case notes and bags to the car by himself." 

Mulder snorted. "Right. Most women pack shoes. The Doctor here likes to carry around several trees-worth of notes." He looked over at his partner. "You see anything of Klaus?" 

She glanced around. "Not yet. Are we supposed to meet him here or at the Police station?" 

"Here will be acceptable, Agent Scully." The enormous wool coat and short-brimmed hat obscured his features, so he stepped forward, his ID at the ready. "Gunther Klaus, Bern City Police." He grasped the strap of Mulder's duffel. "Let me help you with that. It's several blocks to the hotel."

The partners glanced at each other, then Scully queried, "How did you know us?" 

Klaus shouldered the thick bag. "Hiram sent me a description." At Mulder's odd little glance, he shrugged. "A knock-out redhead, a dignified white-haired grandmother, and a tall man with dark hair."

Caroline stepped toward him. "So, whom do we contact at the Bank tomorrow?" 

The wool moved from side to side. "No one, just yet. Even the assistant manager is under suspicion, at present. I've already spoken with the Director, who is as horrified as we are that his vaults were compromised covertly. Here in the Federal Capital, some things are taken more seriously, if you take my meaning." 

Mulder nodded. "Being as we're from another federal capital, I take your meaning precisely." The four walked uphill in silence, stopping by a dark oak door with thick glass inset for a window. 

Caroline eyed the flag waving in the motion of the passing cars. "This is the place. Where can we check with you, Inspector?" 

He waited until the proprietor had appeared to accept the duffel from him. "My office would be fine. Enjoy your stay in our country." With that, he vanished across the flagstone street.

Caroline smiled. "So Swiss. Polite, precise, and brief." At her son's anxious tugging, she stepped inside.

\--o-0-o--

Hotel Krebs  
Bern, Switzerland  
Wednesday, April 1, 1998  
7:02 am

After adjusting his tie, Mulder rapped once on his partner's door. "Scully?" As he heard the lock rattle, he prepared a grin for her benefit. The trip from Santorini had been uneventful, two flights shorter than many they had taken to open a new case. _How did Max learn to finagle all those deals for them?_ His grin broadened. _For once in my life, there are benefits to being on good terms with an attorney._ He sobered suddenly. _There are benefits in being on good terms with a lot of people, my Mother included._

Scully, looking comfortable in one of her grey wool skirted suits, glanced up at his face. "Mulder? You okay?" She sent up a trial jibe. "Looks like those dairy maids wore you out." 

As he escorted her to the stairs, he arched both eyebrows. "Nope. Slept better than I have in months afterward. You?" 

She tossed her head. "I still need to experiment before I leap into that wild lifestyle of yours, Mulder." At the landing, she looked back over her shoulder, noting that he, too was in grey wool. "That means I need a guinea pig or two." 

Bending over her shoulder, Mulder chuckled. "Promises, promises, Doctor."

The proprietor met them at the bottom of the stairs. "I hope all was satisfactory with your room?" He extended his hand, palm up. 

Forcing herself not to stare at his over-sized mustache, curled precisely on his upper lip to two exact points, Scully nodded politely. "Of course. Dark chocolate on my pillow makes everything better." She began to step around him, but the mustachioed man, his grey suit cut in traditional Swiss style with contrasting edging around the collar, cleared his throat. 

Mulder patted her spine. "He needs your key to clean the room. Mom explained it to me." 

After a quick backwards glance, she fished it from her briefcase, then placed it in the outstretched hand. While they walked through the lobby to the small dining room, she called back, "Whatever happened to Trust No One?" 

Standing behind her chair, he pulled it out for her, waiting until she was settled to reply in a stage whisper over her shoulder, "After last night, I know where all the maids' loyalties lie." 

Scully shook her head, then smiled at the white-haired woman who had been spreading blackberry jam on a croissant. "Good morning, Caroline. Did you sleep well?"

As formally attired as the two agents, she looked up, her eyes sparkling, to greet the auburn-haired pathologist. "Of course not. *Your* room, at least, isn't on the same floor as my son's." 

Mulder flushed a deep shade of purple. 

Tucking her chin, Scully hid her amusement by pouring coffee from the blue and white china carafe into her and her partner's cups. While checking his blush from behind her pageboy a final time, she set three slices of soft whole-grain bread on her plate. 

After squeezing a drop of lemon in her tea, Caroline sipped, then passed Scully a folder. "These are the bank's document numbers for your papers. Max gave me the new access codes over the phone last night." 

Scully looked up from the pages. "But I thought you said you had them already?" 

Caroline shook her head. "I'm a signatory on the boxes. Max changes the access codes regularly." 

Suddenly focused, Mulder frowned. "Who else knows them?" 

Caroline held her teacup with her fingertips, her eyes shifting as she thought. "Outside of Max and myself, two bank employees." She tapped the edge of the topmost sheet. "Their names are on the first page." 

Scully flipped back to check the two signatures. "I can't tell which of these would be German." After closing the folder, she passed it to her partner. "If one of them speaks hoch Deutsch, our little mystery will be solved." 

Mulder blinked. "Scully, I never knew you spoke German." 

She shrugged. "Three years. Language requirement for medical school. I know the grammar, most of the common words. But after all this time, my vocabulary is *very* limited." 

Caroline patted her lips dry. "You didn't have to take Latin, too?" 

Scully lifted one corner of her mouth. "Not anymore. Viral and species names come from so many different languages now the requirement was dropped." 

Mulder looked from one woman to the other, realizing both were educated, both comfortable with each other's company. _Is this what a normal life is like?_ They continued eating in silence, until a sudden remembrance of the brief discussion the previous night made him gasp. 

Scully looked to her partner. "Mulder?" 

He turned to his Mother. "Mom, where is this bank? We aren't that far from the train station if we need to rent a car." 

Caroline patted his arm. "Nonsense, dear, this hotel is on the edge of the medieval part of the city and the bank is down by the Parliament House. We can walk anywhere we wish, or even take the electric trolleys." She dropped her napkin on the table. "This is Switzerland, after all. The streets are clean, everything is orderly. The bank opens at eight, which leaves us some time to look around. Shall we?" 

Scully folded her red and white checked linen napkin into its original creases before tucking it under the edge of her Delft-ware plate. "I'd love to. I've read that the noon chiming of the town clock is a tribute to medieval mechanical works." 

Caroline nodded. "We shan't be far away from it, either." 

Mulder rose. "What, no one here works through lunch?" 

Caroline slid her hand around his muscled arm, enjoying this chance to show her handsome son off. "Eight to noon, two to six. The church bells will ring to let us know." 

Mulder looked down at his white-haired Mother, his eyes light with affection, then ushered both women out the front door. 

Caroline was pointing as they stepped out into the brisk air. "Around to our left is the Post Office where Einstein worked, Dana. There's a little cafe where he used to take his lunches..." 

While the proprietor was clearing away the breakfast room tables, a thin drawer behind the counter was slid open, then three room keys carried away. A gloved pair of hands held the metal silently against the bone tags, obscuring the inscribed and silvered numbers. The three keys disappeared into a grey wool suit pocket, the man in the dark suit vanishing before the next batch of tourists arrived to check in.

\--o-0-o--

Kantonalbank von Bern  
Bern, Switzerland  
Wednesday, 8:02 am

Caroline, all quiet dignity, led the partners though a spacious lobby, its roof held up by pointed Gothic arches. They moved under stained glass images of bears, shields, and men-at-arms, stopping for a security guard. The uniformed man nodded, then, at a flash of her passcard, directed them to a plain brass door. 

The Director of the Bank hurried from his office in the front of the building to join them. After appraising their appearances, he offered a soft, "Guten Morgen." 

Caroline nodded. "Morgen. Ich bin Frau Lowenberg. Herr Lowenberg und ich haben mehrere Bankkontoren hier." He offered further information in German before she held up her hand. "I spoke without thinking. My son and his partner are American." 

The compact man nodded. "Ah, quite." 

Scully caught the British colloquialism. "Good morning, Sir, we're here on an investigation..." 

He held up both hands. "No need to explain, Fraulein Doktor Scully. Herr, excuse me, Mister Lowenberg has already described you both to me, but I had forgotten you were American." He ushered them down a series of corridors, past banks of safe-deposit boxes, finally showing them into a room, like several others they had passed, two walls covered with numbered doors. A plain, but gleaming, table and chairs, all of cedar, occupied the center of the room. 

The Director placed a ring of keys in Caroline's hand. "These are new for your boxes. After the trouble, I had these changed as well. As you know, use them after you enter the combinations, not before. If you need anything, I'll be in my office." He pointed to a rotary dial phone on the wall. "Call when you are finished and I'll come escort you out." A polite nod, then they were alone. 

Caroline slid a single sheet from her pocket, holding it as she began unlocking the doors. "I'll only be a minute here." 

Scully rested her briefcase on the table. "Caroline, what about those notes you've drawn up? Where were they stored?" 

Caroline called back over her shoulder. "Some of them are in these same boxes. We wanted to keep everything together, if you remember." Once the drawers were accessible, she headed for the doorway. "I'll go listen to the two employees who are the signatories. If I address them directly, they'll use whatever language I do, so I'll have to keep out of sight."

His arms full of notebooks, Mulder looked over at her. "Mom, do you want someone to go with you?" 

She shook her head. "Who notices little white-haired ladies, Fox?"

\--o-0-o--

Frowning to herself, Scully had been repeatedly turning over pages in one of the D'Amato notebooks.

Watching her, Mulder had kept silent, thinking she would pass her conclusions on to him when she had condensed them to concise statements. But, as the shuffling continued, he grew impatient. When she stripped off her latex gloves to finger and sniff the pages, he reached his limit. "What?" 

She looked up, the light from the overhead fluorescents striking her lenses and hiding her eyes momentarily. She lifted the wire-rims off her nose to chew on one earpiece. 

Mulder rested his chin on his palm. "What, Fraulein Doctor Scully?" 

She flicked her eyes at his smirk. "Oh, I can't quite put my finger on why, but I think someone's looked through this notebook."

Rising from the chair on his side of the table, where he had been checking page annotations against the version on Scully's laptop, he walked around to hover over her shoulder. "Oh, what's niggling at you?" 

She lifted one corner of her mouth at his choice of words. "What's *niggling* at me, Herr Mulder, is how rough the pages in this specific notebook are. They used to be smoother and whiter than this." She flipped open a second binder. "See these?" She slid one hand across the surface of a sheet in each. "You check." She pushed both notebooks toward him.

After removing his gloves to finger and rub several times, he nodded. "Yeah. This one has been examined. Every time I bend the page, the fibers break down further." 

She was wiggling the latex back into smoothness before she handled the brittle sheets again. "But only that one of those I've examined." She flipped the front cover into the light. "The last three characters of the ID should be 31c. How many pages are supposed to be in it?" 

He turned her laptop so he could tap several keys, then answered, "One hundred and thirty eight. How many do you have?" 

She counted quickly. "They're all here." 

Frowning, Mulder began pacing. "That one's barely of interest. It's just a record of clothing and furniture that they were shipping to New Mexico for the scientists they were moving." He read through the menu. "Kid's toys. Real junk." Pushing his hair out of his eyes, he cocked his head. "Can we narrow this down? Are there any pages more discolored than others?" 

She flipped again. "These." She held several sheets between her fingers. "Pages twenty seven through thirty eight." 

He stroked the mouse pad below the keyboard to move the index to those pages. "Kid's toys. All of it kid's toys." 

Tipping her frames back on, she scanned the faded notations. "That's what it says here, too. Let's double check." 

He slid the laptop until it was above the notebook on the table. Silence fell over them, as two pairs of eyes flitted between the images on the screen and the yellowed pages, whose ring-holes were beginning to fray from repeated viewings. Finally, Mulder straightened from his crouch over her shoulder. "They look the same to me." 

She turned to look up at him. "I know. So, what was someone hiding in the toy trunks?" 

He put his hands on his hips, pushing his wool suit jacket behind him. "Are there weights on the shipped crates? Anything we can cross-reference to look for electronics, books?" 

Abandoning the paper as too fragile, Scully pulled the computer to her. "Langly worked that up for us. He'd tied anything numeric like weight into a data base for the Saunders case." 

Standing behind her, his arms crossed, Mulder chewed his lower lip. "Okay. Since we never had to check at this level of detail, we've never really looked at the weights." 

She backed the documents up to a separate screen. "Here, we have weights for the separate smaller crates that came into the warehouses." More flashing. "Here, we have the combined values." She shook her head. "It's entirely possible that crates were broken down and their contents distributed among several others as they changed to lighter or heavier transports, Mulder." 

He nodded. "Give it a shot, Scully. It's the best we have to go on right now."

She compared weights, running a few sums with her calculator. "Yes, there are differences." She frowned. "I'm not sure they matter though, because they don't amount to a pound or two, usually." 

He began pacing again. "They must have been attempting to hide something valuable in there, or why this interest fifty years later?" He turned. "These aren't for one family, are they?" 

She turned sheets. "As if someone were doing a little lunch-time genealogical research?" 

He cocked a questioning brow. 

She shrugged. "I thought I smelled mustard on the pages." She shook her head. "No, there are toys for several different families in here." She searched the data base again. "All with separate origins and separate destinations. Some went to New Mexico, some to Princeton, some to California." 

He bent over her. "Does it say where in California?" 

She nodded. "Los Angeles, San Francisco, Fresno, San Diego." 

He rubbed his chin. "All over." He dropped into the chair across from her. "No obvious connection." Arching both brows, he shook his head. "Well, they're safe, anyway. I'll read over those pages tonight, try to work something out." 

She smiled. "Letting your synapses do the walking?" 

He eyed her pensively. "Yeah, right. I wonder if Mom's having better luck than we are?" 

Scully began gathering the notebooks. "Mulder, you're worried. Go find her. Lord knows I've picked up after you enough times to be able to do this on my own." 

Standing, he sent his thanks in a tiny grin. "Yeah, her Miss Marple routine may not work here. Bern's not St. Mary Mead."

Scully called over her shoulder. "Or Cabot Cove." 

Almost out the door, he shot back, "Murder Capital of Maine. Right."

\--o-0-o--

Resting on the circular bench in the center of the lobby, Caroline knew she had chosen a prime spot for her surveillance. After a few words with the guard, who had kept her under discrete observation, she had settled into a routine of nodding and smiling at the passing patrons. One small child had favored her with a slightly misshapen piece of marzipan that had originally been a replica of the blackened Cathedral which dominated the city skyline.

But, her son was approaching from the vault entrance, his brow deeply furrowed. 

When the guard stepped toward her, Caroline smiled to wave him away, then Mulder's face grew stormier still. 

The dark-haired agent slid up beside her. "Mom? Are you okay?" 

She passed him the marzipan, still on its paper mount. "Of course. I've even been provided with a small snack." She waved gaily at a young couple passing them. "They're from the Piedmont. Charming." 

Bending forward, Mulder rested his elbows on his knees. "Mom!" He shot back in an intense whisper, "Have you found our scribbler?" 

She leaned over until she was propped against his side. "Do you see the little clerk in the red vest at the desk with the potted holly bush?" 

He nodded. 

"It isn't he. His wife is French; she stopped by to argue with him. He's a Gaul himself; he speaks with a proper Parisian accent. I'd place her from somewhere close to the Pyrenees." 

Suddenly all rapt attention, he twisted on the bench to face her. "The other?" 

She waggled her finger at the closest window. "Italian. Southern. My guess is that with the large number of boxes to keep changing access codes on, the task was given to two junior employees. Not a Swiss." 

Mulder crossed his arms. "Then who?" 

Caroline waved to Scully, who was returning the keys to an intently hovering Director. "The Assistant Director is German. I've heard him scold an employee for bad penmanship. Several of the tellers are Bavarian. We'll need to get samples of handwriting." 

Emerging from the access hall, Scully scanned the lobby for her partner or his mother. She spotted them talking, their heads close as they seriously considered their options, reminding her of their interactions when they were on a case. Feeling both immensely privileged to share in this experience while reluctant to disturb it, she joined them quietly. "Well?" 

Caroline quickly pointed out the Bavarians and the Assistant Director. "So, how do we get writing samples?" 

Scully reached into her pocket, then frowned. "Do they exchange currency here?" 

Mulder pointed to a large white rate board. "I'd say so." He pulled several twenties from his trifold wallet. "Each of us to a teller?" 

While rummaging through the contents of her grey leather handbag, Caroline nodded. "I have some Turkish paper money tucked away. Since that nation isn't a part of the EU, it may require the Assistant Director's signature." 

Scully lifted several of her remaining dollars from the slim canvas billfold she carried in her briefcase. "I'll leave half for tomorrow. We'll hit up the remaining candidates then." 

The three positioned themselves at the end of different lines.

Mulder looked over at his Mother, amazed at the independent woman just a few feet away. _I feel like I'm just getting to know her._ When the customer at the window finished, his line shortened so he lost sight of both Scully and Caroline. He found himself looking forward to a free afternoon of sight-seeing with both of them. _Maybe I'll be able to do more of this when we find Sam._

\--o-0-o--

Hotel Krebs  
Bern, Switzerland  
Wednesday, 10:17 pm

Mulder held the thick door for his mother and partner. "How do you find these places, Mom?" 

Caroline smiled up at her son. "Oh, a little reading in my spare time." Her eyes twinkled. "To be honest, I've been there with Max before." 

Scully lifted one corner of her mouth when the white-haired woman tucked an arm through hers. "Caroline, I'll regret that dessert for weeks, but all the chocolate!" 

Mulder smirked. "Wait till I tell Frohike the way to your heart, Doctor." 

Since they were waiting at the desk for their keys, she poked him in the ribs with her elbow. "You do that, and I think I know what I'll use as a thank you gift." 

Glancing at his mother, Mulder began shuffling uncomfortably. 

Caroline shook her head. "Nonsense, Dana, you're skin and bones. Your Mister Frohike would be doing you a favor." She looked up at Mulder, who had turtled his shoulders into a crouch. "Fox, you're a capable, intelligent adult. I trust you to take good care of yourself, so stop being ashamed of who you are." 

Both agents blinked at her, then at each other. 

But the white-haired woman was leaning over the counter, calling for the Manager. 

Red-faced, the man appeared from the back office. "I'm terribly sorry, but there seems to have been some problem with your rooms." He waved them into his office, where he pulled them into a tight huddle. "Your keys were missing this morning, all three of them. When we checked at noon, they had been returned." 

Mulder ran his hand through his hair. "Have you called the police? What did they say?" 

The Manager pushed his long hands toward the dark-haired agent. "Immediately. We had the keys and room tags dusted for fingerprints, then I had the locks changed. There is an Inspector waiting in the Breakfast area who would like to go through the rooms with you to see if any valuables were taken." He slid the service door to the tiny eating space open, so a slight, willowy man with grey interspersed through his thick brown hair could join them. "This is Inspector Klaus, of the Bern Forces." 

When all four exchanged nods, Caroline explained to the proprietor, "We've met for business reasons just yesterday."

The policeman's English was mannered, but slightly nasal. "I see from your records that you, Mister Mulder and Doctor Scully, are with the Federal Bureau of Investigation?" He waited for confirming nods. "Shall we alert your field office, or would you rather handle this as private citizens?" 

The partners shrugged to each other, _He checked us out, good._ then Mulder replied, "As private citizens, for right now." 

The Inspector looked to Caroline. "If you don't mind, Frau Lowenberg, may we begin with you?" 

The four ascended the stairs in silence.

\--o-0-o--

Caroline's room was as tidy as she left it, only the bed-coverings turned back. While the partners waited in the hall, she checked through her suitcase and briefcase, under the bed and in the bathroom. The Inspector was surreptitiously checking behind mirrors and wall hangings, feeling behind the furniture and through the draperies.

After rolling open the dresser drawers she had used, she shrugged. "I didn't leave anything valuable in my room today; we had our appointment at the bank." She joined the partners in the hall. 

The Inspector scribbled several notes to himself in French. "No listening devices, as far as I could tell." 

The rooms of the partners were similarly untouched, so the four repaired to the breakfast room again, waiting until the Manager had seen to another group of guests. 

Inspector Klaus laid his memo pad on the table. "Since there seems not to have been any covert entry to your rooms, one wonders what the motivation behind this is." He fingered the hem of his jacket restlessly. "Forgive me for speaking before we have all the facts, but you, Mrs. Lowenberg, and you, Mister Mulder, are of Jewish heritage, are you not?" 

Mulder interlaced his fingers together on the red and white checked tablecloth, then pressed his palms against each other until they turned white to the fingertips. "Yeah, I guess you could say that." 

The Inspector began to shift on the contoured wooden seat, the spindles in the back creaking audibly. "There has been so much suffering, so many unfortunate incidents that have come to light with the banks, I fear you may have been caught in a backlash of events that are only partially understood." 

Scully crossed her arms. "While your concerns are duly noted, Inspector, I really don't think the settling of bank accounts from victims of the Holocaust-" She paused when the Inspector and the Manager, now standing behind him, twitched. "-is involved here." She exchanged a glance with Mulder, then rested her hands on the tabletop. "I'm Catholic, not Jewish." 

The Inspector sighed. "Fraulein Doctor Scully, forgive this intemperate observation, but, someone not familiar with your resume might leap to the wrong conclusion about..." 

Mulder snorted. "She's Mrs. Spooky!" He waved at the Inspector's and Manager's sheer consternation. "I'm not used to all this concern for decorum. Spooky was one of my nicknames from the Bureau. Never mind." He shook his head. "But, as the Doctor is usually all too willing to remind me while we're on cases, we don't have all the facts, so we shouldn't be hasty in our deductions."

The Inspector began idly turning pages in his memo pad. "I understand." He passed a card to each of them. "If there is anything else that happens, or you find something missing, please let me know immediately. The number on the bottom is my cell phone." 

The two agents grinned as he left. 

The Manager nearly bowed over double once they were alone. "We have never had this sort of unpleasantness here at Hotel Krebs before. If you would like to move to new rooms, I can have the valets help you." He cleared his throat. "If you would like to check out and use a different hotel, there will be no charge for you stay with us. Let me extend my deepest regrets over this unfortunate incident." He began backing away. "I'll leave the three of you to talk this over." 

Mulder draped his arm across the back of Scully's chair to bring them all closer together. "Well?" 

Caroline shook her head. "Whatever you two decide. The rooms are clear, and as far as we know, the hotel is safe." 

Mulder looked over at his partner. "Scully?" 

Rubbing her forehead wearily, she shrugged. "I'm for staying. This may all have been just a ploy to unsettle us and move us out of here, to somewhere less public, for some reason." 

Mulder nodded. "I think so. With the locks changed, those keys are useless anyway." 

They informed an immensely relieved manager, who passed their new keys to them, then escorted them to their rooms.

\--o-0-o--

Room 213  
Hotel Krebs  
Thursday, April 2, 1998  
12:24 am

Scully lifted the receiver to her ear on the first ring. "Scully." 

The silence that greeted her had her throwing aside the down comforter until she heard, "You always conclude it's me calling you like this, Doctor?" 

Chuckling, she slumped back onto the oversized pillows. "A good investigator assumes a suspect of questionable mental stability will continue to follow learned behavior, unless circumstances force him to do otherwise." 

An amused rumble from deep in Mulder's chest resonated over the phone. "Either I should be relieved my partner maintains herself at this high degree of mental alertness, or insulted that she considers me of questionable mental stability. Whichever, I think I'll tell Hans you won't be needing his manly services for the night, Scully." 

Yawning, she rubbed her face. "Meet you downstairs?" 

He exhaled. "Yeah. Thanks."

\--o-0-o--

Looking around for her partner, Scully stepped onto the landing.

Chewing a sunflower seed, he emerged from the shadows. "I took pity on you, Doctor. Hans should be waiting for you when you get back upstairs." 

Tucking her hand through the crook of his arm, she looked her partner over. He was wearing an old pair of jeans and his Oxford sweatshirt and had taken the time to comb his hair, so whatever had him up at two in the morning wasn't a nightmare. They settled on either side of one of the breakfast room tables along the west wall, waving away the night clerk, who, at the Manager's orders, had come in from the office to hover beside them momentarily. 

Scully thumped her feet onto the third chair at the table, leaving the loose lace on one running shoe dangling, then leaned back against the dark brown wainscotting. "So, Mulder, what's on your mind?" 

He propped his feet up on the chair with hers. "More questions than answers. I wish your Mom would let us look at the diary of your Father's." He leaned out of the shadows. "I don't mean any of the personal stuff." 

She nodded. "I agree. I feel like we're being denied the Rosetta Stone, in several ways. But, this has all been so traumatic for her, I don't want to press her on it." She turned to smile slightly at him. "Your Mom's been great, though. We wouldn't be this far without her help." 

Mulder shrugged. "She's having the time of her life." He grinned back. "I enjoyed today with you two. I kept thinking..." He bit his lower lip, then settled back into the shadows.

Scully dropped her feet to the floor. _Now we get to it._ "You kept thinking what, Mulder?" 

She heard the crunch of a hull, then he spoke with slurred speech of a man rolling something on his tongue. "Is this afternoon..." He gulped down the seed. "Is this afternoon what normal families do?" 

She reached across the table to grasp his wrist. _Oh, Mulder!_ She whispered as gently as she could, "When the kids aren't squabbling because they can't see, or it's too hot, or someone took the piece of bread Sally wanted to feed the bears with-" She rubbed the side of his hand with her thumb. "-yes, this afternoon is what normal families do." 

He drummed his fingers on the table. "It was," he murmured, the strained words falling away to nearly inaudible puffs, "nice." He settled back into the shadows, returning to his usual voice. "Sorry. I still can't come up with a reason as to why someone would be into the notebooks. Especially for those pages. Or whether it's connected to this business with our rooms. Or whether any of it is connected to the Holocaust investigations."

Scully pulled back to her side of the table. _That's not why you wanted to talk, partner._ She let her frustration come through in her tone. "Mulder." 

He leaned forward, his usual cockiness gone. "You okay, Scully?" In its place, that soft vulnerability he rarely showed covered his features.

She appeared in front of him. "Mulder, stand up." 

Confused, he rose. 

Scully encircled his waist with her arms, pressing her cheek tightly against his chest. 

He draped his right arm over her shoulders, then wrapped his left around her ribs, an unaccustomed heaviness slowing his actions. "Scully?" 

She rubbed his spine. "You'll have more days like this afternoon, Mulder. I promise. Don't lose your faith now."

He tucked his chin over her head, finally reciprocating the strength of her embrace. "Okay." 

Scully stepped back. "Take the time to let your intuition work, Mulder. We're all safe, Sam included. I know you'll fit the pieces together. You always do." She draped her arm along his waist, guiding him back to the stairs. "Either that, or I'll come up with something after I exhaust this exquisite male specimen you've found for me." She cocked an eyebrow at his quick downward glance.

Suddenly serious, he stepped back to let her ascend first. "There is no Hans, Scully." 

She shrugged. "Good. I'd hate to have to ask for your help getting rid of him." 

Mulder focused sharply on her shifting shoulders ahead of him. "Scully?" 

She twisted to look behind her. "I'd like to get a few more hours sleep tonight." 

Taking this new information in with a silent O, he nodded.

\--o-0-o--

Kantonalbank von Bern  
Bern, Switzerland  
Thursday, 3:17 pm

Mulder pushed through the double entranceway of the bank to join his mother and partner, waiting outside. Each had the signatures they had planned, the previous day, to obtain. As he waved the sheet of paper, he commented, "Here's mine." He looked over at the white-haired woman. "So, where's a safe place to talk?" 

Caroline turned back the way they had come. "There's a little cafe up the street. There we'll have enough noise that we can't be eavesdropped on."

\--o-0-o--

Cafe Linderhof  
Bern, Switzerland  
Thursday, 3:26 pm

Upon entering the small establishment, Scully appreciated Caroline's choice. The tables were well-lit, but widely spaced. The pastry counter at the back of the dining area attracted a steady stream of customers from the Parliament Building across the street. But, with the efficiency of typical Swiss service, no one customer needed to linger for very long. 

After Mulder returned with two coffees for him and his partner, as well as a tea for his mother, they set to work. 

Caroline held up the exchange note she had just received. "Ah, this is our fellow." She laid the slip of paper against the annotated margin in their document folder for the partners to check. 

Scully nodded. "I think so, Caroline. Mulder?"

He propped his chin on his fist. "Okay, so, we have him. Now what?" 

Scully blinked at him. "What do you mean?" 

Mulder canted his eyes at his mother. "Do we put him under surveillance, watch where he goes until he contacts someone?" 

Caroline's wave cut through the air impatiently. "Fox, we don't have to do this ourselves, you know." 

Scully faced the older woman. "So, what do you suggest? We contact Inspector Klaus? Go talk to the Bureau to put a man on him?" 

Mulder sipped his coffee. "What about Max? Can we get a contact of his up here? Just to keep things honest?" 

The white-haired woman nodded. "All those things. If this is tied in with the War, Mossad will want to know about it. I presume you can rely on the agents in your field office?" 

Mulder shrugged. "As much as we can anyone in the Bureau. How much have you told Max?" 

Caroline stirred cream into her tea, setting the China ringing. "Everything, dear. While you were engaging in your late-night aerobics classes " Her lips twitched in amusement when he colored and glanced over at his partner for reassurance. "-I was speaking with my husband." She sipped her tea before she commented softly, "This isn't a sham of a marriage, like it was before." 

Staring at his hands, which were wrapped around the slender crystal carafe, Mulder watched them whiten as he gripped the glass harder. 

Scully caught the slight tightening of his jaw, so brushed the tips of her fingers over his knuckles. 

He looked over at her again, setting the swirling emotions he felt aside to thank her silently. 

Caroline folded her hands in her lap. "That sounds so terrible. Your father and I were happy, with you and Sam, for a few years. You were always loved, always, son." 

His eyes glistening, he shook his head. "Not that it really matters now, does it, Mom?" 

She reached across the papers and notes to take his hand. "Of course it matters. There was a good side to your Father, a part of him his work ground away, cruelly and relentlessly. I see that side of him in you, the more time I spend with you. He tried to break away, tried to make it right." 

Scully leaned back, distancing herself from this private moment as much as she could, but honored that she was, again, here to share in it.

Caroline gripped his long fingers even harder. "Don't ever let that side of you go, Fox."

He coughed once. "I'll try not to, Mom."

The older woman leaned back. "I'm still not entirely certain about Inspector Klaus, though. He's the one variable still not clearly defined."

Scully shifted forward on her white cast-iron seat. "Now, there, I think we can provide some assistance from unofficial channels." 

Mulder looked over at his partner, thanking her again with his eyes for focusing him. "Yeah. Those three monkeys are probably getting fat and lazy on this extended vacation we've given them." He beamed at the auburn-haired pathologist. "We'll call them from back in the hotel."

\--o-0-o--

Hotel Krebs / Office of the Lone Gunmen  
Bern, Switzerland / Alexandria, Virginia  
Thursday, 7:14 pm / Thursday, 1:14 pm

Mulder was sprawled out on his bed, the desk phone on his stomach. He would be meeting Scully and his mother for dinner in a few minutes, but first, the Gunmen. After the third ring, he heard a high-pitched whine, then the line went quiet. "Guys?" 

"Mulder?" The answering voice was Frohike's. "You still having fun in the sun?" 

He chuckled. "Long story. We're in Switzerland, checking on a possible fly in the ointment." He tucked one arm behind his head. "Listen, I need you to do me a favor. There's an Inspector Gunther Klaus on the Bern police force I'd like you to check out for me." 

Frohike growled. "We're not quite as well into the European data bases as we are the American, and Switzerland's tough. It'll cost you. You have anything other than Bern and Gunther Klaus for us to go on?" 

After moving the black unit to the mattress, Mulder swung his legs off the side of the bed. "Yeah, his middle name's Ulrich. I saw it on his badge." 

Frohike scratched on a notepad. "Okay. Description? It may be an alias." 

Mulder chewed his lower lip. "Medium height, greying brown hair, cut short. He's not lost much of it. No facial hair or moles of any particular note. Not much to distinguish him, I'm afraid."

Frohike snorted. "Well, that only leaves half the male population of Europe to check. We'll see what we can do, but you *owe* us." 

As he heard soft, quick footfalls outside, Mulder smirked. "A tip, Fro." 

The little man sucked in his breath. "Oh?" 

At the knock on his door, Mulder, still talking, crossed the room to admit his partner. "Yeah." He met her green-blue eyes. "Chocolate. Swiss chocolate. Buy up all the Lindt bars you can find in DC." He grinned at the crossed arms and tightly pressed lips the woman standing in front of him had assumed. 

Frohike scribbled again. "Dark or milk?" 

Mulder mouthed the question to Scully, then held the receiver toward her. 

Tossing her head, Scully shouted toward the speaker. "Dark!" She glared at her partner, who had the handpiece back up by his ear. 

Frohike chuckled. "Ooh, Mulder, my man, you like hurling yourself into the jaws of death, don't you?" 

At the sight of his partner's tapping foot, the brown-haired agent grinned. "Every chance I get. Later." 

"Right." 

He set the receiver in place, then turned to Scully. 

The auburn-haired pathologist was leaning against the wall. "I presume the guys are looking into it? For a fee?" 

Mulder nodded. "Of course. It may be a while, though. Mom ready?" He checked down the hall. 

Caroline was just locking her door. "Your sources all lined up, dear?" 

Mulder waved his partner out. "Yeah, you could say that."

\--o-0-o--

Restaurant le Beaujolais  
Bern, Switzerland  
Thursday, 8:27 pm

After the salads were taken away, Caroline sipped her wine before facing her son. "Fox, I respect your decision not to indulge in alcoholic beverages, but this Cabernet is delightful. I'd forgotten how good the Swiss whites were." She turned to Scully. "Dana, can I interest you in a glass?" 

She shook her head. "In the military and in law enforcement, you see what alcohol can do to people." 

Mulder chuckled. "Aw, Scully, don't be such a saint. I've seen you sample a microbrew now and then." 

Scully felt a flush spread up her face to her ears. "Okay. A small taste, then." She sipped politely, then raised both eyebrows. "You're right, this is good. We'll have to take a bottle or two back for Mom." 

Caroline smiled, then looked over at her son. "So, what kept you so long with the notebooks yesterday? I never did have the chance to ask." 

Leaning back so the waitress could set the main course in front of each, Mulder shrugged. "We think someone had examined a portion of one repeatedly, but that section is innocuous, meaningless, almost." He glanced at his partner, who had just cracked open a loaf of bread. 

Scully continued. "It's just manifests for crates containing children's toys." 

Caroline nodded. "I see. I don't remember this Antonio D'Amato, but there were so many parts of the Group's efforts of which one was kept unaware." 

Mulder sliced into his steak, letting the serrated knife scrape the plate. "I'll be *he* knows." 

Scully sighed. "He probably does." 

Caroline's eyes narrowed. "If it were *him*, he'd use something like that for..." She chewed her salmon thoughtfully. 

Mulder looked over. "He'd what?" 

Scully stopped cutting one of her round white potatoes. "What?" 

The partners were waiting, focused on the older woman. "What?" they chorused.

Caroline set her fork, with its tines curving downward, on the edge of her plate. "He'd use something like that to hide a code template. If this Antonio worked as closely with him as you two have led me to believe, he might copy him. You said toys. Just toys?" 

Scully nodded. "No clothes or books. How would that be significant?" 

Mulder was biting his lower lip. "Toys, at that time, were usually scaled-down versions of adult possessions. What if those toys were used as markers for something else in the documents?" 

Scully's brow furrowed. "Toy guns standing for real weapons, that sort of thing? But if the crates were all dispersed, then how could someone come along fifty years later to reassemble all the pieces?" 

Caroline smiled at them both. "I think we'll all be skipping desert tonight, hum?"

Mulder looked from one woman to the other. "Is it considered rude in Switzerland to carry-out?"

\--o-0-o--

Hotel Krebs  
Bern, Switzerland  
Friday, April 3, 1998  
12:23 am

Dropping her glasses to her chest, Caroline rubbed her nose wearily. "Dear. I'm just not as young as I used to be." 

Mulder, who had been pacing by the window of his mother's room, a stack of printed pages in hand, rushed to her side. "Mom? You okay?" 

She smiled up at the man bending over her, a hand on each shoulder. "Oh, just tired. I'm not seeing the correlations I expected." 

Scully had been sitting, legs crossed, on the double bed in the room, running multiple correlations with the data base. "Ah!" She looked to the others. "I think I have it." 

Mulder flung himself onto the comforter beside her. "What? What is it?" 

Scully tapped an entry in the manifest. 

Mulder frowned. "Doll's houses?" 

Caroline joined the agents, taking a seat on Scully's left. "Not just doll's houses, Fox. Some of these were elaborate miniatures, down to electric lights and working drapery pulls. It was a common hobby in the previous century, recently revived, I believe." 

Scully nodded. "Mel was always going on about those. We had been thinking that x number of toy guns would stand for y number of real ones, or those Buck Rodgers dolls would represent something about the silver cylinder." She stuck out her chin at her partner. "But that wasn't what interested D'Amato."

Rolling onto his back, Mulder covered his face with both hands. "Houses. Reconstructions of historical styles of houses." 

Caroline shrugged. "I'm not sure I follow you two." 

Mulder moved his fingers down to his chin to reply, "Antonio built a reconstruction of a Renaissance palazzo for his son, Guiliano, for his tenth birthday. We were almost blown to bits in it two years ago."

Scully nodded. "Even beyond that, Mulder, what caught my attention were the listings of furniture *in* the houses." 

Mulder rolled back onto his elbows, practically planting himself in his partner's lap in his excitement. "They gave detailed inventories of what was *in* the houses?" He kept himself close to Scully, his ribs and arms pressed against her hip and thigh. 

Caroline shook her head. "But all that could mean is that the miniatures themselves were valuable." She leaned in front of Scully's knees to meet her son's eyes. "Such was often the case."

Scully tucked her hair behind her ear. "Normally, I'd agree with you, Caroline, but there were several other crates that had doll houses of similar dimensions and weights, without the detailed inventory." 

Mulder twisted his legs around until they dangled off the mattress, forcing the two women to look back at him when he prompted, "Okay, so it looks like we have the code, only, what does it correlate to? Is it an inventory of the possessions of the families the doll's houses belonged to?" 

Scully shook her head. "Only partially. Even if there is no intent to conceal, just because these are elaborate miniatures, there will be equivalences. I've even correlated the furniture against every other family's possessions, with no luck. Whatever it means, I'm still not seeing it." She yawned. "Maybe after a few hours sleep, my head won't feel like mush." 

Mulder nodded. "Yeah. Okay." He was chewing his lower lip. 

Caroline stood in front of him. "Fox?" 

He blinked up at her. "Mom?" 

She held out her hand. "May I have the key to your room?" 

Digging it from the hip pocket of his jeans, he passed it to her. "Yeah?" 

She smiled. "I need to sleep, and from that look, I know you won't be." 

Scully was shaking her head as she held out her own key. "Caroline, use my room. Please." 

Mulder looked over at the auburn-haired pathologist. "Scully! What are you saying?" 

One cheek creased momentarily. "My room's neater than yours. If your Mom volunteers to give up this soft double mattress, she should at least have somewhere comfortable to sleep." She leaned against his side. "Besides, the maids won't be sneaking into my room." 

The joke set him nodding, so Caroline, after collecting a few items, left. 

Mulder smirked at his partner. "Well, now that Mom's gone..." 

Letting his key swing from the room tag, she shook her head. "See you tomorrow, Mulder." She slid off the mattress to stretch. "Should I leave you the laptop?" 

He was reading and pacing again. "Yeah, sure. Oh, I packed a bathrobe, you know, in case Mom, um..." 

Her hand on the door lever, she called back, "Thanks. Night!"

He blinked. "Yeah. Night, Scully."

\--o-0-o--

Room 318  
Hotel Krebs  
Bern, Switzerland  
Friday, 7:21 am

Dana Scully rolled onto her back, wondering why her partner always seemed to be able to claim the more comfortable mattresses for himself, then never use them. She peered over at her watch, draped over the edge of a bedpost. _It's that late?_ She pushed out from under the comforter, then dialed the room down the hall.

Having mistaken her for the Inspector, Caroline answered, "Morgen, Herr Klaus." 

Scully could only stammer, "Caroline?" 

She heard that musical laugh in response. "Dana! Glad you're finally up. We may have something here." 

Her partner's bathrobe wrapped over her wrinkled jeans and sweatshirt, Scully hurried along the carpet to knock on the door at the end of the hall. 

His hands bulging with flapping pages, Mulder pulled it open. "Morning, Scully." One side of his face twitched, then he let loose a greeting that spoke volumes as to his progress. "You always look so rested wearing my clothes?" 

She stuck her tongue out slightly, then volleyed back, "Oh? Sounds like you've solved this case and found the lost treasure of the Copper Scroll, too." 

He stepped aside. "Ooh, that was before your head hit the pillow, Doctor. You must think I'm getting senile." His cocksure grin was infectious.

Caroline shook her head at the teasing. "Fox thinks that these houses are actually a map." She tipped her glasses for a moment. Come see."

Scully crouched on the floor by the fan of papers. "Map?" 

Caroline lifted one sheet to pass to her. "I couldn't sleep, Dana, so I came back in here." 

Mulder bent over his partner. "I'd sketched that map of the US with the cities the houses were going to marked on it. Mom made the connection, I didn't." 

Caroline flushed slightly. "It reminded me of the way we used to deploy our sentries when we traveled from city to city under cover of darkness. The V in front, the line in the center, the curve at the back. What if that's what this is, the layout for a camp, and the furniture in each dollhouse tells in code what's stored in each location?" 

Mulder set the laptop on the carpet in front of her. "So, we looked at the furniture in the houses."

Scully narrowed her eyes. "I see. Only couches, tables and chairs in the house going to San Francisco, only beds and dressers to Princeton." She looked to Caroline. "I presume you've also worked out what these stand for?" 

The white-haired woman nodded. "By looking at ratios of things. In the San Francisco house, five couches, twelve chairs, two tables." She scrolled to the crate listings. "Here." She pointed. "Seventy-five unidentified pieces of electronics, one hundred and eighty cases of vacuum tubes, thirty crates of casings." 

Mulder was pacing in front of them. "We thought this material was bound for New Mexico, but why ship so many vacuum tubes? We made those here in the States already." 

Scully rose. "They were taking them somewhere they didn't expect to be able to find replacements easily." She lifted the laptop to the desk surface, scrolling until she brought up a route map. "Let's see. Everything comes to Italy, bound for the US. On the way, it passes through Sicily, over to Tunis, makes several stops along the North African coast, then through the Strait to the Canary Islands, and finally, off to the US." She tucked her hair behind her ear. "I wonder..." She scrolled through the manifests. "This is it, Mulder, look!" 

Caroline sank onto the bed. "Algiers." 

Mulder had crossed his arms. "Let me guess. The electronics drop off the manifest lists after Algiers." 

Scully nodded. "It'll tell us whatever else was significant, too." She looked from one dark-eyed face to the other. "I'll take it from here if you two want to catch up on your sleep?" 

Caroline shook her head. "We still need to interview our scribbler." She looked over to her son. "Fox? Stay here and rest. You were up all night." 

He grunted. "No. I'll be fine."

\--o-0-o--

Kantonalbank von Bern  
Bern, Switzerland  
Friday, 10:21 am

The three congregated outside the Bank. 

Scully held out her sheet. "This is the man." 

Mulder nodded. "Scully, you bring your counter?" 

She flipped the top of her jacket pocket open long enough for him to spy the grey plastic. "I'll be back." 

Caroline watched her go. "You think he might be one of your shape-shifters?" 

He shrugged. "It's possible, but I doubt it. They know what we look like, even if we can't always identify them." He attempted to peer through the stained glass of the doors. "It probably was a shape-shifter that looked through the papers, because it wouldn't make sense for a member of the Consortium to need to examine the actual documents." 

Scully pushed open the door, nearly striking her partner in the chest with the edge in her haste. 

One of the Bavarians, sweaty and nervous, was with her. 

Caroline spoke to him gently, using inflections she knew would calm him. 

Wiping his curls off his forehead, he looked up at Mulder. "When I realized who you three were, I knew I needed to speak to you. I can't tell this to anyone for fear of losing my job, but..." 

Mulder nodded. "You were unconscious for several days, and when you woke up, no one knew you had been missing?"

The Bavarian closed his pale blue eyes. "Exactly. I thought I was going crazy. Why would anyone want to impersonate me? I'm just a junior employee; I don't control any large accounts..." 

Caroline began leading the rest down the street. 

Scully took the man by the arm, Mulder walking along between their witness and the street. The auburn-haired pathologist leaned forward. "You hold access numbers for safe deposit boxes?" 

He nodded. 

Mulder looked up to spot where his mother was disappearing into the bakery where they had talked yesterday, then held the door for the other two. "That's all the cover they need."

Scully waved the clerk forward. "Who needs combinations when you can feel your way in?" 

The blond man looked from one to the other, then settled warily into a painted chair by Caroline. "Please, tell me what happened, and I'll do anything, outside of steal from my employer, to pay you back." 

Mulder dismissed the offer with a wave of his hand. "No problem. We aren't interested in your bank. Here's what we think is going on..."

\--o-0-o--

The clerk leaned back, agape. "Aliens, after government secrets?" He sipped his lager. "Well, normally, I'd discount the whole thing, but after what happened to me, I can't begin to object. What does all this mean?"

Her throat dry from explaining, Scully coughed. "We're attempting to work all that out, Sir. We would like you to do us a favor, though." 

The man nodded. "You'd like me to keep an eye on your boxes for you?" 

She sighed. "Please. We suspect that they've worked out what they needed them for, but if anything unusual happens, don't get involved, just let one of us know, either through the local Bureau field office, or by calling one of these numbers." She scribbled on the back of her card. "The US number will put you through to friends of ours, who somehow always manage to get messages to us. The other one rings a house in Santorini." 

The four rose. 

Mulder extended his hand. "Thanks." After their witness left, he looked down at his partner. "I think this about wraps things up here, don't you?" 

Scully nodded. "We can work out the significance of the codes in the papers back on Santorini as well as we can here." 

Caroline was shaking her head. "We still have a loose end. Inspector Klaus." 

Mulder held the door to usher them out. "So, we stop by the office and tell him not to pursue the matter further." 

The white-haired woman narrowed her eyes at him. "If you think that's good enough, Fox." 

Mulder cocked his head. "You don't, Mom?" 

She waited. "No, I'd like to wait until your sources come back to us with an all-clear. I don't like unfinished business." 

Mulder looked to his partner. "Scully?" 

When a sudden gust of wind ruffled their coats, she tucked her hair behind her ear. "I think Caroline's right, Mulder. We need to know who we're dealing with." She shrugged. "Besides, Klaus may have more information for us on the European groups of the Consortium."

\--o-0-o--

Room 318 Hotel Krebs / Office of the Lone Gunmen  
Bern, Switzerland / Alexandria, Virginia  
Friday, 8:32 pm / Friday, 2:32 pm

After dinner, the three had congregated in Caroline's room, reviewing the papers according to the codes they had deduced. When the phone rang once, Scully reached over to answer it. 

The man on the other end cleared his throat. 

Scully looked over at her partner, who was draped across the mattress, drawing lines across a map of Africa they had picked up. "Hey, Frohike, you found out about Inspector Klaus yet?" 

Mulder's lopsided grin creased his cheek. 

Scully listened seriously while the round-faced Gunman explained their findings. "Okay, good. He's legit, then. Listen, we have another request for you." 

Frohike sighed. "For you, Agent Scully, anything." 

She frowned at his flat tone. "You all right?" 

He rubbed his face. "Yes. And No. Byers just learned that Vicky's plane went down over Somalia. It's been located, and there are survivors, but there are also fatalities. It's all he knows." 

Scully pulled herself onto her knees. "I'm sorry to hear that." 

Mulder and his mother, both seated at the desk, moved over to converge on her. 

Scully bent over the phone. "Listen, we can get to the information we want a different way. Byers needs you." 

Frohike nodded. "You'll call Pendrell?" 

She rubbed the back of her neck. "For starters. We can surf the Net back on Santorini, too. Look, likely as not we'll be in Algiers soon. We could detour to Somalia if we need to." She heard the phone change hands. "Byers?" 

The bearded Gunman sighed. "Yes?" 

She repeated her offer. 

He coughed several times. "Once I find out whether it's worth the effort, I'd appreciate it. You're Bureau, with no apparent personal connections, so they'd let you by. State frowns on family members flying into the scene of a crisis." 

Scully propped herself against the side of the bed. "Whatever, just let us know." She replaced the receiver, deeply sobered. 

Mulder crouched beside her. "What?" When she told him, he rubbed his face with both hands. "Jeez. What next." 

Caroline had the phone in her lap when she spoke. "Let me call back to Santorini. We can be out of here tomorrow morning. I presume that's what you want?" 

The agents nodded.

Mulder looked around the sparely furnished space. "You know, this is the first time I've noticed that this place doesn't have a TV in each room."

Scully shrugged. "Downstairs."

\--o-0-o--

Hotel Krebs  
Bern, Switzerland  
Friday, 9:12 pm

Mulder had been prowling the breakfast room for several minutes, waiting for the next news update. Scully, noting that their hand-wringing proprietor had peeked through the connecting door yet again, stood to block her partner's path. 

As she reached for his arm, he pulled away, too agitated for any human contact. 

Frustrated, Scully closed her eyes. "Mulder." The summons was issued in her deepest and most gravelly contralto.

The undercurrents in her tone brought his eyes to her face, but they were unfocused, dilated. "Yeah?" 

She took a step toward him. Although his reply was flat with frustration, she sensed resignation underneath, not the pure fury of a few moments earlier. "We should go back upstairs. Your Mom should be off the phone and have arrangements made." 

Nodding blankly, he followed her up the stairs. "Do you know any way to get computer updates from here?" 

She shrugged. "I have an ancient CompuServe account, but I thought that was bought out. I'll try dialing in to see if it works. This," she concluded as she waved at the dark wood around them, "was charming, but we need to get back to the twenty-first century." 

Caroline met them at the top of the stairs. "We have flights out tomorrow morning that will have us in Santorini by three." She slid her glasses off her nose, focusing on her son. "If you really want updates, perhaps you should check with Inspector Klaus *tomorrow* *morning*. He should have access to lines outside the city." 

Ignoring his mother's implied request that her remain, Mulder reached for his partner's elbow. "You coming?"

Scully nodded. "It will probably be an exercise in futility, Mulder." One cheek twitched slightly. "Not all law enforcement officers are on-call twenty-four hours a day, you know. But we should make the effort, just to save time in the morning."

He looked to his mother a final time.

Caroline shook her head. "No. I'd like to pack and rest a little. I could work long hours like this when I was younger, but not anymore. You two go on." 

Mulder shifted closer to the white-haired woman.

Caroline set her lips firmly. "Fox, I'll be fine. Let me know what you find out." She turned to unlock her room. 

Scully stretched out her hand. "Let's go, Mulder. She means it."

Nodding, Mulder followed his partner down the stairs.

\--o-0-o--

Police Station  
Bern, Switzerland  
Saturday, April 4, 1998  
8:14 am

After ascending the long limestone stairway to the entrance to the Medieval building, Mulder pulled the door open for his partner. "Let's hope he's in *today*, not on the equivalent of a beat, or whatever it is one checks for here in Bern. We can't delay much longer." 

Scully was already at the receptionist's desk. "Wo ist Herr Klaus?" 

The tiny black-haired woman pointed to a desk in the far corner. 

As they approached, the Inspector hung up his phone, then rose. "Agent Scully, Agent Mulder!" He extended his hand, beaming at them both. 

At his call, the other detectives around the open room assumed the busy air of co-workers who were eavesdropping without being too obvious about it. 

Scully tucked her chin, suspecting that their Inspector was showing off, just a little, for his colleagues. She shook the roughened hand. "Inspector Klaus." After a quick glance back at her partner, who had surveyed the room with glowing eyes, she stood in front of the battered wooden desk. "We need your help on a matter of some urgency." 

If the room had been subdued before, it fell utterly silent now. 

Klaus smoothed his tie. "Anything, Agent Scully." 

She settled into the chair by the desk's end. "We need access to your embassy in Somalia." 

The little man rose, guiding them toward a well-lit corridor. "This way, please." 

When they disappeared around a corner in the hallway, the room behind them began to buzz with hushed whispers of excitement. Mulder glanced down at Scully, pleased that his partner's direct appeal had produced the desired effect. He knew Klaus would spare no effort to impress these foreign agents, if only just so he could bask in the new-found respect his colleagues would now award him.

Scully maintained her focus on the dark-suited officer's back, continuing to play her role as the serious agent. She knew from the sounds behind her that despite her partner's suspicions, this Inspector was the genuine article, not a plant by some shadowy organization or a shape-shifter replacement. She glanced up at Mulder, surprised he was regarding her with twinkling eyes. She cocked an eyebrow in response, watching his lips quirk, but not spread into his usual grin. 

Their contact was standing by one of several identical doors, his hand on a brass knob. "We can discuss this in here. The distraction," he explained as a light shone from his eyes briefly, "would be an unnecessary interruption to our schedules." 

Mulder waited for his partner to enter. "Oh, we seem to specialize in interruptions."

Klaus gently pressed the thick glass-paneled door into its dark wood frame, silently engaging the latch. "How could the Swiss embassy help you when the American couldn't?" 

Mulder had been pacing by the inner wall. "There's a plane-full of State Department employees that has crashed. We have a friend on board. The State Department won't release any information. We were hoping you would know someone, who knew someone, who could pry details out of the people down there..." 

Klaus nodded. "Let me make some calls."

\--o-0-o--

Government Office Building  
Bonn, Germany  
Saturday, 10:24 am

"How close is the wreckage to sensitive areas?" The Italian representative looked from one sagging face o another, until he had made eye contact with each man in the room, save one. 

A Bavarian, his face lined, but still young, was making his way toward the door. "Excuse me, but I have been instructed to extend my Minister's sympathies to the officials in the American Embassy. He is infatuated with the idea of Bill Clinton's 'personal touch' and wishes to emulate it." 

The French representative waved toward him idly before commenting to the others, "Perhaps one day we will no longer need cover jobs to hinder us in our true work." 

The Bavarian closed the door behind him with a sigh. Somehow, the bugs planted in the rooms of the three Americans had remained undetected so the men behind him were buzzing at the prospect of other shape-shifters to be intercepted. _Little do they know how close they were to one of their putative targets!_ But there was someone he needed to contact, to warn of impending trouble. He wound his way through the corridors, down the elevator, then across the parking lot to his Mercedes.

\--o-0-o--

The journey on the Autobahn had taken forty-five minutes, during which time repeated calls to a dark office had gone unanswered. Finally, he eased the brown sedan into a parking space by the door, then hurried downstairs. He rapped just below the nameplate labeled 'C. Knox', but no footfalls sounded within.

Desperate, he reached for his spare key, then pushed the door aside. The desk was bare, as were the bookshelves and filing cabinets. _Where could... Ah, yes, of course._ Locking the door again, he trotted back to his vehicle, already plotting the quickest route to his destination.

\--o-0-o--

Room 318  
Hotel Krebs  
Bern, Switzerland  
Saturday, 10:54 am

Mulder was sprawled on the bed, the desk phone on his stomach, while Scully watched. 

He had dialed through to the Gunmen, but was waiting for a response. 

Finally, on the tenth ring, there was a crash, then a click. "Office of the Lone Gunmen." 

Mulder crossed his legs at the ankles. "Hey, Langly, you guys heard anything new?" 

He heard a sigh. "Nope. No one's talking, Mulder. You?" 

The dark-haired agent arched both eyebrows. "Yeah. The most voluble, efficient, and ingenious Inspector Klaus. All the fatalities were men, if that helps. There were three women on the plane, all of whom were helicoptered to a military hospital." He waited while the details were related in a hushed whisper, then there was static as the phone changed hands. 

"Mulder?" 

The tall agent pulled himself upright. "Byers, you holding up?" 

"Yeah. Thanks. I've tried calling her office, but not even the secretaries will tell me anything. This is better than looking at smoking wreckage on CNN." 

Mulder rubbed his eyes. "It'll be okay." 

"Yeah." 

The response was more somber than Mulder had anticipated, so he looked over at his partner. "You want to talk to Scully?" 

"No." 

Mulder nodded when he saw Scully tapping her watch. "It's what, five in the morning over there? Get some rest, Byers."

\--o-0-o--

Lowenberg Residence  
Santorini, Greece  
Sunday, April 6, 1998  
2:34 pm

Max held the door while the partners and Caroline entered. "Good to have you all back." 

Caroline stared up at her husband. "Max, what's wrong?" 

His eyes flicked toward the study. "We have a guest." 

Scully froze. "A guest? You mean the mayor?" 

Max shook his head. "Not at all. Your Mother is doing her best to entertain him." 

Mulder knelt, reaching in his bag for his SIG. "Who is it?" 

Max led them to the study. "Someone with whom we are all familiar." He waved them through. 

A lean, bearded African-American sat on the couch across from Margaret Scully, who was nervously attempting to initiate a conversation. The glowering man simply ignored her disconnected words and fragments of sentences, fingering the Smith and Wesson on the cushion beside him. 

Saunders spoke without looking toward the entrance, "Welcome back, Mulder, Scully." He pointed his weapon toward the dark-haired woman across from him. "Have a seat." 

The four dispersed themselves around the room, all ill at ease with this new twist in the situation. 

Saunders looked to Mulder. "You should leave the plane crash investigation alone. Sneaking around through diplomatic channels does your cause no good whatsoever."

Mulder crossed his arms. "We have a friend on that plane." 

Saunders shook his head. "No, you don't."

Scully clenched her fists. "How can you say that? Don't you remember who looked out for you when you were in your coma? Byers's wife was on that plane. How can you be so ungrateful?" 

Saunders glared at her, his face rigid. "Victoria Nolan never took that flight." 

At the sound of the latch in the glass double doors rattling, all but X looked over. The woman in the doorway possessed an air of faded elegance, her wavy brown hair held at the nape of her neck by a gleaming silver barrette, its center adorned with a single turquoise stone. She glided, rather than walked, in an elegant pair of soft tan pumps, to the center of the room where she stood by Saunders. 

Scully noted the delicate fingers, the short nails filed to perfect roundness and protected by clear polish, unlike her own, which were forever chipping at a keyboard or performing an autopsy. Although mature, the woman had remained slender, her face barely lined, comfortable in her lightweight natural linen suit and pale gold silk blouse set off by a triple strand of pearls. The agent mused that if the woman were older, she would resemble Caroline Lowenberg in face and build.

"I caught her at the last minute and kept her off the flight, but not off the passenger list, unfortunately." The woman pointed to the African-American, but was looking over at Mulder. "We have some unfinished business, courtesy of William Mulder, the man who taught me everything I know, and who is dearer to me than my very soul."

\--o-0-o--

End - Zurvan - Chapter X - City of Bears


	11. Emain Macha

\-----o-----------------------------------------o-----

Chapter XI - Emain Macha

\-----o-----------------------------------------o-----

"One day as he was resting alone in his house, a   
tall young woman came into the hall where he lay.   
She was richly dressed and stately and there was   
a great dignity and confidence about her. She   
walked into Crunnchu's room as if she owned it.   
She did not speak to him but walked over to the   
hearth, sat down and calmly began to poke the   
fire. She sat all day there at the fireside and   
spoke to no one...

'What is your name?' the king demanded. 

'My name ... will stick to this place for ever!'   
she said. 'I am Macha, a daughter of the Ocean.   
Now bring the horses here that I may race against   
them!' The horses were led out and Macha raced   
against them and out stripped them easily...

Then Macha spoke again. 'From this day you will   
be afflicted by this weakness because of your   
cruel treatment of me. At the hour of your greatest   
need, when you are under attack, every Ulsterman   
will become as defenseless and helpless as a woman   
giving birth to a child. For five days and four   
nights you will remain in that state and your   
descendants will be afflicted by the same weakness   
for nine generations!'

Both of these prophecies came true. Ever afterwards   
the place was known as Emain Macha..."

excerpted from "The Weakness of the Ulstermen"   
in "Fame Outlives Life: The Ulster Cycle"   
as told by Marie Heaney

\-----o-----------------------------------------o-----

Lowenberg Residence   
Santorini, Greece   
Sunday, April 6, 1998   
2:46 pm

A smile played around the woman's narrow lips as she contemplated Caroline, who looked ragged from the trip and the flights. She inclined her head once. "So nice to finally meet you, Mrs. Mulder. I feel I know you from Bill's many late night chats on the phone with me. But you don't know me. I'm Christina Knox. My dear Bill and I worked together for years at the State Department."

Attempting to subdue the few white strands the wind had whipped free during the ride from the airport, Caroline smoothed her hair down with both palms. Suddenly extremely self-conscious of the lines in her face and the unadorned wool suit, she hid her hands in her jacket pockets, then pulled them out again to button the pale grey coat closed. Max tucked her under his arm in a valiant effort to shore up his wife's sagging will.

Saunders and their new arrival stepped out into the corridor to make plans, leaving Mulder and Scully with their parents. The partners moved immediately to reassure Margaret, who had been on the verge of tears throughout the entire encounter.

Caroline glared up at her husband. "Max? How long has he been here?" 

The white-haired man kissed her cheek gently. "He arrived with that other woman soon after you called me from Athens to let me know you were en route." He glanced back over his shoulder to check the two shapes on the far side of the glass. "That woman opened the door first, claiming to be a tourist out of water, then he came through behind her. What they want with us, or with our search for Samantha, I don't know." 

Mulder, who had overheard Max's whispered account, joined them. "Mom? Do you ever remember Dad discussing a Teena or Christy? I don't." 

Caroline had burrowed further under her husband's arm, grateful for the support. "Nor do I. But Bill never spoke of things about the job. You know that." 

Mother and Son locked eyes, then Mulder ran a hand over his face. "Yeah, I know. I just wonder whether she really knows Vicky Nolan or not. I've only met her briefly once, but never talked with her, so all I know about Vicky is from Byers himself." 

"Yes." Scully was standing by his elbow now, Margaret having stepped outside to compose herself. "She was in DC while you were here, Mulder, but she never offered any details about her job." She shrugged. 

Mulder jerked his head toward the doors. "You don't think?" 

Scully shook her head. "Why would Saunders ally himself with the shape-shifters? It goes against everything the Consortium stands for. Why would *they* ally themselves with an ousted member of the very organization that has, as its purpose, the extermination of any alien life form that lands here?" 

Mulder narrowed his eyes at her. "To buy himself some time or some maneuvering space?" 

She bent over her duffel bag, which had been abandoned in the corner of the room when they arrived. "I'll check, but they'll have to be in here with us, not out there." 

Max looked down at his wife. "Are we ready, then?" 

Raising her chin, Caroline set her face in the 'great lady' mask Mulder knew so well from his childhood.

Mulder stepped to the outer door, opening it just enough to tell Margaret to stand clear of any flying glass. 

Saunders and Knox reentered the room, the bearded man glowering at the grey box in Scully's hand. "No, we're both human. Scan us. See?" He extended his arms out from his sides. 

Scully flitted her eyes at the display, then powered down the unit. "So you are. But why come to us with weapons? We were helping you, the last we met." 

Knox tipped her face up, pushing her narrow Roman nose forward dismissively. "Trust No One, not even your purported allies." She stalked over to Mulder, looking up into the agent's shifting hazel eyes. "I'd never guess you were Bill's boy." She cast a disparaging glance over her shoulder at Caroline. "Somehow, I expected someone-" She hurled the insult as she cocked her head. "-taller and better looking." 

Mulder stole a glance at his partner, whose sole response was a quick roll of her eyes. He bent over the brunette. "Who knew you worked with my Father?" 

She pushed him back. "No one. We were very discrete. Bill had enough problems at home." Another down-the-nose sneer was sent in Caroline's direction, who had moved until Max blocked her view of the other woman.

Mulder pinned Knox to the rough stones of the fireplace with a hand gripping each arm. "Whom do you work for?" 

She tossed her head proudly. "No One. Not the Consortium, not any other Group you may have found out about. Why do you think your Father was allowed to retire? Have you ever asked yourself why the Group just didn't kill him outright? Did you think *they* were being sentimental?" 

Stepping back, Mulder released her. "Okay, tell me." He crossed his arms to keep from fidgeting as she spoke.

Knox rotated her shoulders, straightened her hair, smoothed out her suit, then met his eyes. "Whatever any of the others may have told you is probably nonsense." Her eyes flitted to Caroline. "He couldn't choose which child he would lose, vacillating between the son and the daughter. In so many ways, your husband was a flawed man, so he turned to you, his wife, hoping to seek some resolution to his dilemma. When you provided none, he took *my* suggestion." 

Mulder's face set in a tight mask, as rigid as the grip he applied to each of his upper arms.

Knox glared at Scully. "Daughters are useless anyhow. The real truth was, she was a bargaining chip, nothing more. He wasn't happy with the work, so he was compiling evidence in secret locations, looking to expose the organization. They wanted the evidence, or they would kill his sweet Samantha. If anything happened to her, he would release the evidence." She laughed, a cruel, mirthless sound. "A Faustian bargain, wouldn't you know."

Caroline joined her son. "Then end this charade! Tell us where Sam is." 

Knox pointed to the stacks of documents on the desk. "There's no need. All your answers are in those papers." 

Mulder bent into her face. "The real truth is, you don't know, do you?" 

Knox stared him down. 

Scully stalked over, setting her voice in her deepest growl. "If you're telling the truth, then tell us how you kept this from the Consortium all these years, and where this evidence is now." 

The brunette faced Scully, each with their fists on their hips. Knox bent into the auburn-haired pathologist's face. "How did I keep this from *them*? Don't think we were dense, child. Bill Mulder and I saw to it that there were no records of our meetings, no photographs, no incriminating paper trails. We worked in separate parts of the State Department, only met while overseas, only while deep in the Third World." She looked over at Caroline. "Oh, he told me about you, the sick wife back in the cold house in Chilmark. You drained his soul, drop by drop, you and your weaknesses and complaints." 

Caroline's voice dropped into a growl. "Were you William Mulder's mistress? Was that why we never had any real happiness?" 

Knox snorted. "Mistress? Why should I steal another woman's husband? Is everything between men and women supposed to be about sex? No, all he needed was someone to listen, someone to dole out the Scotch with a firm hand, someone strong to lean on." She struck her chest with her fist. "That was I!" She glowered at Caroline. "Not you."

Scully stepped between them. "All right. I've heard enough. So what do you want with us now?" 

Saunders spoke from across the room. "To show you the secrets you've wanted to see. Why Africa is so important. Why Bill Scully warned you never to go there." 

Pouncing on him, Mulder shook the bearded man by the arm. "So, why are you telling us this now?" 

Saunders glared back. "Isn't it what you want to hear?" 

Scully shook her head. "No. We want the truth. What's in it for you?" 

Knox sighed. "We have someone else in on our secrets. Someone else who can take over the job of watchdog, of gadfly." She walked over to Mulder. "You've wanted that, all your life. Up until you found the D'Amato papers and kept them, you were just the Consortium's tool, finding what they would let you find, making the noises they wanted made. Now, you're a real threat. With us, you can make it work. What do you say? Are you willing to step into your Father's shoes?"

Mulder shook his head. "All I want is my sister back. That's all it ever was." He released Saunders. "All this was necessary, but not essential. Let me have Sam and I'll leave you to hash it out with them." 

Saunders snorted. "Oh, you'll have your sister back. But retiring from the field of play won't be nearly that easy."

Christina nodded. "Look at me." The agents studied her face, seeing the wrinkles and grey roots for the first time. "Do you have any idea how old I am?" She smiled sadly at the blank expressions. "I thought not. I'm over fifty, though I can never admit it. I'm tired of this constant cat and mouse, the continuous wariness." She nodded at Saunders. "When I was approached, offered a way out, I leapt at it." She turned to Mulder. "When your Father died, you mourned for him for how long? A day, a week, a month perhaps?" 

Mulder stared at his feet, then glanced at Caroline, hearing her condemnation ringing in his ears. 

Christina nodded. "I thought so. None of you knew him, did you?" 

Mulder looked over at X. "Did you know her connection with my Father?" 

Saunders only glared. 

Mulder's eyes softened. "Was this why you were willing to help me?" 

The bearded man shot back evenly, "Some of us are better at this double game than others of us were. Keep thinking about your crusade, Agent Mulder. You are his son, after all." 

Feeling as if he were spinning in the air, Mulder backed away from the group. "I don't know what to believe anymore." He bolted for the back door where Margaret Scully had been hovering. 

After a quick backwards glance, Scully trotted outside as well. 

Margaret was staring off in the distance. "He's gone, Dana. He ran." She pointed to the SIG lying in the grass. "He wasn't even aware he had dropped that."

Shading her eyes with her hand, Scully surveyed the rocks. "After what he just thinks he's learned, I can't blame him, Mom, but I have to find him. We have no proof that any of this is true." She picked up the weapon, then held it out for the older woman to take. 

Margaret crossed her arms. "But you do, Dana." Her lower lip trembling, the older woman stared at the mother of thyme she was scuffing under her feet. 

A sea breeze whipping her hair, Scully turned. "Ahab's diary. He found out about that woman, didn't he?" 

Her hand on her mouth, Margaret nodded. 

When the wind kicked up a sudden shower of dust, Scully stepped into the shelter of the house next to her mother. "Was she Bill Mulder's mistress?" 

Margaret sighed. "He could never work that out. By all appearances, she was. Secret meetings in clandestine locations, nameless packages dropped along the side of the road, money transferred to accounts in both of their names. It looked that way to Bill." 

Scully held her hair out of her eyes with her right hand. "It could also be that they were really protecting this evidence she talked about. It would look like the same thing." 

Margaret stared back into the house. "Caroline has been so kind, and she's been through so much. I didn't want her to know. I thought perhaps this was what you were searching for, what Fox wanted to know." 

The younger Scully shook her head. "I don't think the possibility of infidelity even phases Mulder. I think it's all to do with his sister. Which way did he go, Mom?" 

Margaret shook her head. "I don't know. He barreled out of here while my back was turned. I called after him, but all I could see was his head disappearing over that ridge." She pointed. 

Scully set the SIG on the ground by her Mother's feet. "That would be like him. A straight line over the roughest terrain the island has." She pulled her cell phone from her jacket pocket to check the battery. "If I don’t call in before dark, tell Caroline and Max to send a rescue party, that way" She pointed toward the hills. 

As she sprinted off, Margaret called, "Dana, your gun!" 

The auburn-haired agent flipped up the back of her jacket, offering her Mother a clear view of the SIG in its holster. "By dark, Mom!"

\--o-0-o--

Santorini, Greece  
Sunday, 6:08 pm

Scully slipped as she topped the hillock of sharp-edged volcanics. The point of an andesite boulder drove itself into her knee, tearing the jeans and making her wince. _These are rags now._ She had been climbing and falling for three hours, aware that she was approaching the tallest peaks in the center of the island. _Mulder, where are you?_ One more shove, then she was over, sliding down the hillside on her right hip. She let loose a frustrated stream of words as she scrabbled for a hand-hold in the tumbling stones. But the rocks around her were all free, so her efforts only set showers of jagged red cobbles ahead of and over her.

She was halfway down the hillside when she thumped into something fixed. Momentarily stunned, she covered her head with her arms as dust and fragments settled around her. 

Shoving the rocks off her chest and legs, she was relieved to see another pair of hands joining in the effort. 

There was an amused rumble behind her. "Nice of you to drop in, Doctor." 

Twisting carefully, Scully appraised her situation. She was perched on a narrow rooted boulder, her partner holding her delicately by the waist. He had stretched his legs out straight to give her more room, but her feet still dangled off the edge of the ferrous rock. Striking at it with her heels, she could tell that it was thick, the deep thuds she heard indicating it was solid, not cracked. When she looked back up the slope, she could see that this boulder was one in an irregularly spaced line that extended back up to the crest. 

_Did he climb down here, I wonder?_ She had been so intent on finding the slightest indentation marking his passage that she had missed the seemingly simple descent. Swiveling, she caught the twitching around his lips that meant he was working hard to suppress a smirk at her consternation, so she punched him in the shoulder once. "Mulder, what did you think you were doing, taking off like that?" 

He shrugged, keeping silent while she righted herself. Having worked with her long enough, he knew exactly what stages she had progressed through. First, she had no doubt chastised herself for letting him get so agitated at these new revelations. He deeply appreciated that about her, her concern for his mental well-being that went beyond what he had experienced with any of his other partners. _Two, and that's only if I count Reggie._ Second, she had assessed the situation brewing, then had made the determination that she could come after him. Jerry would have been scheming as to how to make himself look good to his bosses after the fact so would no doubt have been attempting to grandstand back at the house. He eyed the tears in the denim as well as the sliced-open top of her running shoes. _No, Scully doesn't worry about what makes her look good. Just what needs to be done._

When Scully attempted to shift away from him, he slid to the edge of the rock to give her some space. Before he released her, however, he pressed his thumbs into her back, feeling the strained muscles there. _Tense, as I expected._

If he were honest with himself, he would admit that part of the reason he had run was to give them both some time to assimilate what they had been told, then prepare for what as to come. He needed to know if Scully had fully recovered from the head injury, which her present agility told him she had. _Also, you're one selfish SOB._ He watched her twisting around, shifting until her back was against the talus wall. Although he was relieved the trip to Bern with his Mother had gone so well, he desperately needed this time alone with the one person he trusted. He scooted forward a little to give her more space.

When their actions set another small shower of fragments clicking down the slope, Scully found herself smashed against his back. "It's probably true, you know." 

He rubbed his face, still looking out over the browned grass in the distance. "What, that Christina Knox was my Father's mistress, or that he kept us all alive by making a deal with the Devil himself?" 

Scully attempted to work her way forward of her partner, only to find herself nearly in his lap, his arm curled around her waist. "The deal with the Devil." 

He pulled her against his legs, holding her while she righted herself. "Oh. Your Father's diary?" 

Still struggling, she nodded. "Yes. Mom took it to mean your Father was having an affair and didn't want us to know, but Saunders wouldn't be here if he had nothing more that a faded mistress in his hand." 

He studied her green-blue eyes in the waning light. "How long did it take you to work that out?" 

Resigned to his holding on to her, she crossed her arms, then settled in. "About the first hill. The rest of my time was spent looking for size eleven boot prints in the soil. You?" 

"Oh, I'd say an hour after I landed on my rear following a similar set of gymnastics to yours." He pointed at the sky. "It's amazing what staring at cloudless blue Mediterranean heavens does for your reasoning faculties."

She looked up at him. "So why did you stop here?" 

He waved at the edge of the rock they were perched upon. 

Scully crawled out to the end, about four feet past his boots. Beneath this one rooted boulder, the hillside fell away in a straight drop, several hundred feet to jagged piles of black rocks. She scrambled away quickly, feeling a distinct sense of relief when he tucked her securely beside him on their narrow seat. 

He chuckled. "You finished investigating so soon, Agent Scully?" 

She rubbed the back of her neck. "Yes." Her brow furrowed with chagrin, she tipped her head back to look up at him. "Thanks. How did you know that was me up there? It could have been a shape-shifter, or anybody." 

He shook his head. "It was the clinical precision with which you threatened the various portions of my male anatomy that gave you away, Doctor." He let his one-sided grin dimple his cheek.

She pressed her shoulder against his chest. "Will you be okay with her, Mulder? With what she could be, that is?" 

He shrugged, his voice a whisper. "As okay as I'll ever be." He eyed her jacket. "Say, is that a cell phone, or are you..." 

She stuck out her chin, her voice low. "It's a cell phone, Mulder." She sent him the Look as she tugged it free. "And it still works." She punched in Max's number. "Do you know how relieved everyone will be to know you're okay?" 

He smirked. "Goils. You never figure out that it's the only reason to run away from home." 

After relaying a description of their location, she peered back up the hill. "If we can make it up to the top, the local police helicopter can pick us up more easily. Most of the steps look manageable." 

Mulder released her. "After you."

The partners began a scrabbling ascent of the talus slope, Scully hoisting herself up first, Mulder steadying her if needs be as he followed. For several of the rocks, she had to sit on his shoulders to reach the boulder above, then drape herself over it to let him pull himself up, using her arms as guide ropes. On the stretch to the last boulder, her torn running shoe fell off completely, bouncing down the hillside in yet another shower of stones. 

She grunted. "Next time, Mulder, give me some warning so I can put on my hiking boots, okay?" 

Kneeling to steady her up the last gap, he chuckled. "Ah, and take all the fun out of this?" 

Walking ahead of him to the flat crest of the hill, she waved her arms at the approaching helicopter. "At least this is preferable to attempting a rescue off that bench you found for us." 

Glancing back over his shoulder, he snorted. "Yeah." Their perch was now covered in the rocks they had kicked loose on the way up.

\--o-0-o--

Lowenberg Residence  
Santorini, Greece  
Sunday, 10:36 pm

The police helicopter deposited them directly on the flat lawn in front of Max's home, probably at his explicit request. This time, however, there was no welcoming clutch of elders, just the bare green space. After the partners shook the hand of the pilot, they crouched until the vehicle had departed. 

Scully faced the house. "I don't hear the dog." She slid her SIG out of its holster. "I don't like this." 

After selecting a rounded white cobble from the rock garden, he waved her toward the front entrance. "I'll take the back." Shrugging as she quirked her lips at his choice of weapon, he bent over her. "You have a better idea?" 

Ignoring the challenge, she moved forward, sticking to the flagstone path to spare her bare foot. "Mom?" She hovered by the front door, talking to give her partner time to move into position. "You okay?" 

She was surprised when Saunders unlocked the door. "What did you think, Agent Scully, that I would disappear again?" 

Still alert, she lowered her handgun. "The thought had crossed my mind." 

He fell in step. "I presume your partner will favor us with a precipitate appearance through the back way?" 

She checked the living room, noting the positions of the four within. Max and Caroline were seated across from Christina Knox, the two women exchanging glares, while the white-haired man kept one arm curled possessively around his wife's shoulders. Margaret had stationed herself as close to the door as she could, wanting nothing more than to leave these three to their privacy, but also seeking to provide whatever support she was able. 

Scully looked over at the African-American. "It should come about..." 

They heard a crash, then the tall agent's shout of warning. 

Scully called back, "It's okay, Mulder, they're all here." At the sound of more flailing, she hurried to the kitchen. What she saw immediately set her in her firing stance. "Freeze, Federal Agent!" Her jaw worked when she realized how meaningless that phrase was here. 

But it had its desired effect. The blond, round-featured man Mulder was wrestling with froze, just long enough for the Agent to twist one arm behind the intruder's back. "I bin ein Officer!" 

Saunders snorted. "One of the German secret service. Just what we need." 

Scully sidled forward, placing the barrel tip of her SIG against the man's neck. "Die andere kan nichts Deutsch verstehen. Sprechen Sie Englisch?" 

Their captive nodded. "I'm with the German Federal Police." 

Mulder released him. "Okay. Why were you skulking around in my stepfather's kitchen?" 

The officer began working the kinks out of his shoulders. "I need to speak to Christina Knox. Now. We have urgent business to attend to." 

Scully waved her gun at the doorway. "You first." As they left, she rounded on Saunders. "What do you know about this woman? Is she some common criminal ripping us all off?" 

Mulder grasped Saunders' arm. "What is her connection to my family?" 

The African-American yanked himself free. "Knox works in the State Department, just as she said. It was the old man, your former informant, Mulder, who told me of her existence. We all had cover jobs. It was only your Father who thought to use his to protect himself. The rest of us were too busy keeping to the Organization's agenda." 

Scully pushed Saunders on the chest. "All? You obviously had something going as well. Why else are you here?" 

Since they had reached the living room, Mulder touched his partner's shoulder, hoping to bring her attention to the present. 

Christina Knox was regarding their new arrival with white-faced astonishment. "How did you?" 

The Bavarian eyed Caroline Lowenberg, then launched into a tirade in German. 

Clenching both fists, Max flew at the man, connecting with his chin three times before Mulder and Scully restrained him. 

Caroline moved between her husband and the German. "Max, please, it's all a lie." She looked down, watching the blond man roll onto his hands and knees. "There were cover stories within cover stories we devised for the times. This is apparently one of them."

Mulder joined them. "Mom?" 

She held up both hands. "In a minute, Fox." 

He grew more insistent. "Mom, if this has anything to do with Dad, or Sam..." 

She tensed. "Not now!" 

Scully watched him shrink back as if struck. 

Margaret Scully cleared her throat tentatively. "Could someone please...?" 

Max held up both hands in a gesture of surrender. "Forgive us, Maudie. " He explained as he poked the Bavarian with his toe. "This man has accused Caroline of willfully aiding certain National Socialists escape justice at the end of the war." 

The dark-haired woman cast bewildered glances around the room. "I don't understand..." 

Caroline reached for her son's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Fox. When Agent Hiram suggested we check with Inspector Klaus, I didn't stop to think that his official inquiry would trip this type of surveillance. But I should have expected it." The white-haired woman pressed her palms together, using the gesture to regain her composure, before turning to the woman from the State Department. "Miss Knox, I think I'm beginning to understand why my late husband confided in you. You are not a native-born American, are you?"

From Mulder's short gasp, Scully knew he was about to interrupt, so she grasped his wrist, shaking her head when he glanced over at her. 

Christine Knox smoothed the jacket of her suit before she replied. "No. I am from Poland. From what is now called Gdansk. My family was wealthy, like yours, before the War. But, I know nothing of that. I was born the year the war ended, into squalor and sickness. What little the Germans did not seize at the start of the War, the Soviets possessed by the end of it. When Bill approached me initially, it was in the name of fighting those who had blockaded Berlin, who had reduced one of the few free places left in the East to what I know. Like you, I could speak several languages, but unlike you, I am Catholic. There would be no question of divided loyalties for what they wanted to do. He helped me into America, helped me obtain my citizenship." 

Scully glanced at Caroline, who had seized her husband's hand fiercely. Max had turned to her, his eyes dark with sympathy. _So, he knows as well. What kind of a man was Bill Mulder?_ She stepped closer to her partner, who was caught up in the story, oblivious to the undercurrents running through the room. 

Margaret Scully let out a squeak, bringing the rest around to stare at her. "All this? How do you live with all this?" 

Mulder was across the room in three strides. "Mrs. Scully, please. Would you like to step outside?" 

She took his outstretched hand. "No, no. I'm fine. It's all so much, too much, almost, but I'm fine." She waved apologetically to the others in the room. "Go on." 

Christine and Caroline regarded her sadly, then squared off again, Caroline stepping close to the brunette before she resumed her queries. "Very well. He helped you to America, then to a job in the State Department. Also as a translator?" At Knox's nod, she continued. "So, when did you begin siphoning off information on the Organization?" 

Saunders stepped between them. "That's ancient history. What we need to be concerned with today is why we're both here." 

Since he had guided Margaret Scully to a chair by her daughter, Mulder rejoined them. "And that is?" 

Saunders narrowed his eyes at him. "Africa. Don't you remember?" 

Mulder began pacing. "Of course. In your statements, you indicated that the Organization used the Third World for many of its test sites. As far as natural resources go, outside of diamonds, Africa is the least excavated of any of the continents. With all those rifts and dormant volcanoes, it ought to be rich in heavy elements and precious metals." 

Scully blocked his path, trapping him between the sofa and the fireplace. "More than that, Mulder, if the Consortium is experimenting to find the ideal human, why not conduct the experiments where the human variations are the greatest, where there is so vast a gene pool to be tapped? Over sixty percent of human variations are present in sub-Saharan Africa." 

Saunders eyed her carefully. "The continent where we all originated." 

Mulder nodded. "Where humans live under conditions ranging from the sparsest desert to the wettest rain forests. So we were right earlier, that those pentagonal structures were part of the Organizations' network of labs." 

Scully whirled, advancing on Knox. "Also, where the primate gene pool is just as rich. Anywhere else in the world, we need to import our nearest relatives. There, variations unknown in the First World for chimps and gorillas are just a drive away." 

Saunders sighed. "Why do your think we kept their habitats under such tight control?" 

Mulder glared first, at Knox, then at Saunders. "So, this evidence my Father collected may help us. How do we get to it?" 

The African-American eyed him sadly. "Where do you think, Mister Mulder?" 

Mulder shrugged. "The D'Amato papers? Swiss bank accounts?" 

A snort. 

Scully tucked her hair behind her ear. "No. Right under their noses." Pointing at Knox, she tipped her head back to meet her partner's eyes. "How else would she know about Africa? Why else would she be here wanting us to go there right now?" 

Mulder stalked over to her. "It's more than that, though, isn't it?" 

Fear flashed for a moment in the brown-haired woman's eyes, but she kept silent. 

Mulder spoke to his partner without looking away from Knox's face. "If my father was supposed to compile a genetic data base on every citizen in the US, then he knew there was something unique about his own. Something that he, Sam, and I would have." 

Scully arched an eyebrow. "But if she wanted just the DNA from your Father's family, she could have taken it from Sam's file. What she needs is something only you have: your Father's Y chromosome." 

Mulder grasped Scully's arm, deeply grateful that she had followed his train of thought. "It's a key, a sequence that unlocks the evidence my Father had." He rounded on Knox. "That's it, isn't it? Something my Father and I have in common?" 

Although ashen-faced, she kept silent. 

Mulder looked over at Max, who was carefully shielding Caroline. "Mom?" 

After a quick squeeze of her husband's shoulder, she stepped forward. "It must be, Fox." Since the two women were of equal height, she glared directly into the brown eyes. "What was so special about Bill? So unique?" 

Knox pointed to the dark-haired agent. "When we reach the Laboratory, he'll find out." A tight-lipped smirk crossed her face. "Have you never wondered why it was so hard for you two to have children?" 

Mulder ran his hands through his hair. "My father's genetically incompatible with my mother. It must be..."

Knox laughed, the sound harsh and angry. "Not aliens, Fox. Not at all. You'll see." 

Pulling out his SIG, Saunders said to Max, "If you excuse us, Sir, we'll just take what we came for and be on our way. Mister Mulder, Agent Scully, come along. The Truth is waiting for you." 

When Max stepped forward, Mulder held up both hands. "It's okay. We'll go with them. Just keep yourselves and the documents safe until we return." He glared at Saunders. "We *will* be returning?" 

His jaw set, Saunders nodded. "As safely as I can arrange." 

Margaret was on her feet. "Dana, surely..."

Scully shook her head. "There are answers for all of us there, Mom. I have to go. Look out for yourselves." 

Mulder blocked his partner's exit, then pointed down at her feet. "Doctor, about those boots..." 

She cocked an eyebrow at his grim joke, then, dismissed by a nod from Saunders, trotted down the hall to her room. When she returned, having changed into a heavy pair of canvas trousers and her boots, she handed her partner his ankle pistol and ammunition. "Just in case." 

He nodded his thanks.

Knox looked Scully over with a sneer, then spun away from her. "Do try to keep up. We can't stop when those short legs of yours wear out." 

Saunders had to suppress a guffaw of surprise at the comment. _Little does she know..._

Without another word, the four departed, leaving three confused elders in their wake, Max holding his wife close. The Bavarian, after a momentary glance at Caroline, hurried after the agents.

\--o-0-o--

Algiers, Tunisia  
Tuesday, April 7, 1998  
11:24 am

Mulder waved his three companions over, leading them through the lot of Land Rovers. "I think that's the one, way in the back." 

Scully eyed Knox. "How did you find the resources to purchase one of these? Usually archaeological expeditions drop a hefty portion of their initial grant money just to buy a used one."

Knox set her lips in a grim line. "My dear Bill left me well-provided with funds to pursue our outside interests." 

Scully trotted after her partner, leaving Knox to catch the three younger members of the group up. In a gesture of protest obvious only to the auburn-haired agent, Mulder's spine had straightened at the phrase 'my dear Bill.' 

Scully felt for him. _If I hear that too many more times, I may relieve her of her tongue in one midnight surgical procedure._ When she reached his side, he had all the doors unlocked and was slinging what little luggage they had picked up into the back of the sand-colored vehicle. 

Saunders snorted. "Mister Mulder, kindly restrain yourself from breaking our tent-poles. We'll need that cover when night comes." 

Mulder glared back. "Oh? How far into the desert is this little caravan going?" 

Knox stood by the driver's door. "Further than you can yet imagine." She eyed Scully. "I trust you understand the operation of the water purification equipment? We don't need to die of hemmoragic fever out there. Or is you expertise solely devoted to dismembering the dead?" 

Mulder watched his partner's jaw flex, wondering when Scully would haul off and slug the older woman. He stepped forward. "If that were the case, at least two of us wouldn't be here." He jerked his head toward Saunders. "Maybe three." 

Saunders had already climbed into the passenger side. "If we could please keep our egos in check, we do have a long journey ahead of us, and an uncertain welcome when we do arrive." 

After a final disparaging glance at the two agents, Knox pulled herself into the driver's seat, then turned the engine over. "Very well. Let's head for the cargo terminal."

Mulder reached across the driver to turn the key in the ignition. "What are you talking about?" 

Saunders gripped the agent's wrist. "We are flying in to the site across the desert, Mister Mulder. You didn't think we could just drive, did you?" His dark eyes moved to Scully's face.

The auburn-haired pathologist eased her partner back into his seat. "Mulder, two Americans would raise all manner of official notice if we tried to go up the Congo from the Atlantic. With a well-fueled transport, we can fly our equipment down to where we can drive the rest of the way." 

Glowering, the dark-haired agent crossed his arms. "I hope you people know what you're doing."

After a quick sneer backwards, Knox started up the engine.

\--o-0-o--

J. Edgar Hoover Building  
Tuesday, 8:12 am

As he stepped from the elevator, Walter Skinner eyed the figure pacing in front of his outer office door. _What does he want?_ Once he was within a few feet of the red-haired man, he sought to halt his determined circling. "Agent Pendrell?" 

The technician stopped. "Director Skinner? I need to speak with you." His green eyes flicked toward the glass door. "I don't think we should be discussing this in there, Sir." 

Skinner nodded. "As you wish, Pendrell. Shall we say, the Tidal Basin, at eleven thirty?" 

Pendrell broke into a broad grin. "Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir."

\--o-0-o--

Tidal Basin  
Washington, DC  
Tuesday, 11:27 pm

Walter Skinner stepped around a strolling group of tourists, his objective being to reach the man who was sitting quietly on the second step of the Jefferson Memorial. 

Pendrell stood quickly when he spotted the Assistant Director. "Good morning, Sir." Feeling nervous and quite thin in his dark suit, the red-haired agent shoved both hands in his pockets. 

Skinner's cheek rippled slightly, then, anxious to proceed, prompted the technician with a simple compliment, "I wish all my agents would arrive for meetings early, Pendrell. What did you need to tell me about?" 

The two men fell in step with the crowds taking in the most ephemeral of Washington's sights, the yearly blossoming of massed Japanese cherry trees. 

Once he felt certain there was no one following them, Pendrell looked over at the Assistant Director. "The two agents who were killed during the Courthouse explosion hadn't been recruited by the Shadow government, Sir. Whoever they really were, they had been surgically altered to appear to be duplicates."

Skinner stared down at him. "How do you know that, Pendrell?" 

The technician smiled briefly. "I've been performing DNA tests for Agent Scully, so I just added a few cells from the corpses to the batch I sent out. After the original problem with guards for Saunders, you had asked me to check the other candidates out thoroughly, Sir. So, I ran through a list of eligible officers and took skin, hair and blood samples from all of them." 

Skinner glanced at a group of schoolchildren as they ran by. "Given what happened to the corpses of the two men who died last year..." 

Pendrell's chest swelled slightly. "And that we're dealing with shape-shifters, Sir." 

Skinner nodded. "A wise precaution. Considering we chose the guards at random from that pool on any given day, it seems we have a deeper problem within the Bureau itself." He stopped, his action pulling Pendrell around to face him. "Do you have any idea who those two men were?" 

Deflated, Pendrell stared at the marble beneath his feet. "Sir, it's easy to look for marker genes to determine if two samples are from the same person. But there's so much variation in just the population of Washington, all I can tell you is that they were Caucasian males of Western European descent." 

Skinner shook his head. "But I'll bet I know who does know." 

Pendrell looked up. "The old man with the cigarettes?" 

Skinner frowned. "Yes."

Pendrell smiled. "Agent Scully told me how he had substituted an altered body for his own to fake his death last year. Do you know what this might mean?" 

Skinner gritted his teeth. "Our old adversary is tightening his hold over the shadow government." 

Pendrell gulped. "I was afraid you were going to say that." 

The bald Director sighed. "Ever since I found out he was still alive, I've been expecting this." He began walking forward again. "It's been relatively easy to survive with the old men gone. But if he's taking charge, we need to enlist as much help as we can, as much publicity as we can." Eyeing the younger man, he queried sharply, "You're certain all the bombing fatalities were from bullets fired by the weapons found with the two corpses? Certain?" 

Pendrell nodded. "In three of the cases, death would have resulted from the injuries sustained during the collapse of the structure without the added trauma, but basically, yes, the gunshots killed them all. I've secreted the originals of the ballistics tests and the autopsies to prevent tampering. Agent Scully warned me I'd need to do that." 

Skinner scanned the crowd behind them. "Very well." 

The red-haired man looked up. "Are you planning on having a press conference, Sir? Director Freeh would want to be involved." 

Both dark eyebrows arched. "That's a situation I'd like to avoid, if I can. After all the work and official nonsense one of those entails, we'd find ourselves essentially ignored. Remember, with all the revelations recently, a press conference tends to become a one-day wonder in this town. There were several DC area reporters at the Pittsburgh trial. I believe I'll speak with one or all of them. A few well-placed words and some evidence will start them investigating and reporting, which is precisely what *he* would like to avoid." Skinner bent over the younger man. "Keep those documents secured, Pendrell. Have you heard from Scully?" 

A nod. "Her last E-mail said she and Agent Mulder were pursuing a lead into Africa, but that they had no precise destination." 

The bald director closed his eyes. "I believe I know where they'll end up." Glancing around him again, he growled, "Make sure your vaccinations are up to date and meet me at my house tonight." 

Wide-eyed, the technician nodded.

\--o-0-o--

FBI Field Office  
Athens, Greece  
Wednesday, April 8, 1998  
2:27 am

"Mein Herr! Mein Herr!" The Bavarian had been pounding for five minutes on the locked door for this room that was doubling as a prison cell. 

A disheveled agent, his shock of red hair uncombed, pulled it open. "Yeah, what do you want?" 

The Bavarian thrust a tumbler in the man's face. "Some water, please, the sink in my room seems to have stopped up."

Rolling his green eyes, the agent staggered in, then locked the door. "Okay, let me take a look at it." Bending over the valves, he muttered, "Crazy Germans, they expect everything to - Ahhhh." He slumped forward bonelessly. 

The blond man eased him onto the cot beside the sink, then returned to stand in front of the mirror. He began adjusting his features, looking down at his sleeping guard, then back into the glass. When the two were reasonably similar, he removed the keys from the Agent's pocket. _Time to be on my way._

Once he reached the front desk, he called in to his home phone back in Bonn. His eyes narrowed at the message left, which was composed simply of two words, "Old Hickory." _That's what the Consortium means to do. I must reach the site first, then, to warn the others they must hurry. Wherever they are in the tests, it's time to get away._ He took a moment to recompose his features, then walked past the guard at the front desk with a wave and a nod. _Simians. So foolish, so trusting. No wonder they are such easy prey to foolish ideas and schemes._

\--o-0-o--

Savanna  
close to the border of Sudan and  
the Democratic Republic of the Congo  
Friday, April 10, 1998  
8:43 pm

Scully settled by her partner, wrapping her arms around her knees as she contemplated the fire. The dark-haired agent had been staring at the spot where the sun had vanished for over an hour and the temperatures were dropping. "Mulder?" she prompted.

He sighed. "What are we doing here, Scully?" 

The question took her by surprise. After a moment's consideration, she shifted into his line of sight. "Our parents are fine, Mulder. We put the Bavarian into the Bureau's custody for attacking a federal agent before we left Athens." 

Stretching his long legs out in front of him, he shook his head. "No, it isn't that. I mean, why are we helping Saunders and Knox pursue some agenda of theirs, rather than finding Sam and getting your Mother home safe?" 

Scully blinked. "What? There are answers out there, Mulder, we know that." She shifted closer to him. "In a way, you've surprised me. Usually, you're the one forging ahead, regardless. I'm the one asking why all the time." 

He snorted. "Yeah, I know. It's just..." He chewed his lower lip. "It's just that I don't want us to end up on the lam again, or losing some vital piece of evidence." He looked over at her. 

Scully lifted one corner of her mouth. "Like we did at Strughold? Look, if we'd had our wits about us, we would have stuffed the folders in our shirts and we wouldn't have been here." Leaning back, she rested her hands on the sand. "On the other hand, we wouldn't know what we know now." Dusting her palms off, she stood. "I have a feeling I know where we're headed." 

He rose. "One of those pentagonal structures we saw in the satellite imagery?" 

She nodded. "The Gunmen showed me some microwave data where strange, sporadic lights appeared and disappeared over a spot in southern Sudan."

He cocked his head. "UFO activity, here?" 

She shrugged. "Or weapons testing, maybe rocket testing. We know the shape-shifters want to get back home, and the easiest way to do that is to use the original vessel." 

He shook his head. "But it was destroyed, if not badly damaged, by the V-3. You're thinking they could have rebuilt it?" 

She nodded. "They've headed for a stockpile of raw materials. They have three scientists and an engineer who has spent years learning exactly what the Consortium knows. What if they need some of our technology to help get it off the ground? They'd have to test to see how compatible the parts were, and whether they could get our equipment working well enough to use. That would explain the lights we saw."

Mulder chewed his lower lip as he considered her ideas. "We're headed there with minimal firepower. So it's either abandoned, lightly guarded, or - " 

"We have another way in." Knox had been watching them from the passenger seat of the Land Rover. Stepping down, she crossed over to them. "What exactly did you see at the Strughold mine, Mulder?" 

He blinked. "Files. Thousands of files." 

Shaking her head, she grasped his chin to stare deeply into his eyes. "No, what did you see?" 

Pulling himself free, he glanced at Scully before he replied. "A UFO. It was huge, a mother ship. The light blazed in through the glass, then I followed it by running into the roof." 

Knox smiled sadly. "No, you didn't." 

Mulder crossed his arms. "I know what I saw." 

Scully glared up at the older woman. "I have to agree with Mulder on this one. After the building lost power, I observed many small beings leaving through a side door, directly into a beam of light." 

Mulder stared down at her. "Scully! You never - "

She sighed. "We were trying to stay alive, if you remember." 

Saunders flanked Knox, facing the partners. "Neither of you witnessed what you believe you did." 

The agents glanced at each other. 

Knox stepped to the Rover, returning with a folder. "This is what you saw, Agent Mulder." She passed him a photograph of a huge mother ship. 

He nodded. "You're saying this was a planted memory, and the pattern of lights triggered its recall, aren't you?" 

She stared down at the auburn-haired pathologist. "As was yours, Agent Scully." 

Scully's jaw set. "If we were to go public with our stories, we'd be pressed for more details and the flying saucers portion would make it seem like so much hallucinating." 

Knox reached for Scully's chin as well, studying her eyes intently. 

Grasping Knox's wrist, Mulder pulled the older woman's hand off his partner's face. "What are you looking for?" 

Saunders stepped between them. "Evidence of retinal modifications." He turned to Knox. "Well?" 

She pointed to Mulder. "It was successful with him, but not with her. We should be able to enter the facility." 

Barging forward into Knox, Scully nearly toppled her over in her rage. "What? All those bright lights disguised a laser beam? Optical retinal surgery is a very delicate procedure." She growled at the older woman. "You could have blinded him." 

Mulder's eyes flicked to his partner's rigid back. _Or you, Scully._

Saunders pushed the auburn-haired pathologist away. "It happened well before that, Agent Scully. We have no use for a deformed operative." 

The dark-haired agent dropped a hand on her shoulder. "Ellens. They did something to my eyes as well as my memory back at Ellens." He glared at Saunders. "Why?" 

Knox shook her head. "The curly-haired man you called Deep Throat was attempting to reel you in gradually, Mulder." 

The tall man rounded on her. "Reel me in?" 

She glared back. "The old men always wanted you to replace your father. They were testing you, guiding you. They only let you see what they wanted you to see. The arguments about you were exceedingly fierce." 

Scully crossed her arms. "How do you know? If your only knowledge came through Bill Mulder, how do you know?" 

Knox clenched her fists. "I had other contacts. Had. With Bill's departure, I had to stay alive somehow. Now, with the changes in power, they are no longer there. Does that satisfy you, Agent Scully?" 

The auburn hair swayed from side to side. "No. We need proof. Transcripts, videotapes. This could all be a concoction of lies to keep us here, rather then driving back to Algiers." 

Saunders glared down at her. "Evidence can be faked, Scully." 

She eyed him. "But frauds are eventually exposed." 

Knox held up both hands. "All the proof you need is at our destination. My only hope is that you'll be ready to accept what we show you." 

Mulder snarled. "No! Tell us now! Twenty-four years is enough waiting." 

Her shoulders sagging, Knox turned away from him. "In the morning, Bill Mulder's son. You'll understand then." She pulled open the rear door of the Land Rover. "Now, this old woman needs to sleep."

\--o-0-o--

Skinner Residence  
Falls Church, Virginia  
Saturday, April 11, 1998  
8:27 am

Stepping back from the open front door, Sharon Skinner called over her shoulder to her husband. "Walter, there's someone here!" 

The bald former Marine frowned out over her shoulder. "Ah, that must be the one from the Post." 

She leaned back to kiss him before moving out. "Hope you have more luck with this one, dear. Call me at Mother's when you're finished." She walked out to slide behind the wheel of her Mercedes without acknowledging the man passing her on the concrete driveway. 

Skinner nodded once. "Glad you could come back on such short notice." 

Andrew Dawkins watched the red convertible back out. "You have a good life here, Director Skinner. Are you sure you're willing to lose it all?" 

He strode forward. "I'm not letting anything go that matters. What convinced you to come back?"

Dawkins shrugged. "I heard Agent Scully's testimony. I've been doing some checking on my own since the trial. If even a portion of this pans out, we're talking Pulitzer material." 

Skinner glared down at him. "Get this straight, Dawkins, I'm not in this so you can walk off with a plaque and some fat check. If that's all you want, then go report on the dissolution of the DC government. This is dangerous work. Very dangerous." 

Dawkins smirked. "Can I quote you on that?" After another tooth-bared stare from the bald Director, he held up both hands. "Forget I said anything. Where can we talk? Inside?" 

Skinner shook his head. "We need to go for a ride. There's someone you need to meet."

\--o-0-o--

Vienna Railway Park  
Vienna, Virginia  
Saturday, 9:39 am

Arthur Pendrell was watching a softball game when Skinner and Dawkins approached. After a quick introduction, he lifted one of the ballistics reports from an over-sized yellow envelope. "This is the first of the lot." 

Dawkins flicked at the lower right corner with his fingernail. "This isn't the original. For all I know, you two could have faked the whole stack." 

Pendrell blanched. "We're Bureau, both of us. The originals are secured, not from you, but from the people you need to report on." 

Dawkins grunted. "My editors will want to know how thoroughly I've checked my sources. We can't run a story like this on innuendo and suspicion." 

Skinner narrowed his eyes at the African-American. "Then, you'll see the originals. But you can't take them away with you."

\--o-0-o--

First Virginia Bank  
Vienna, Virginia  
Saturday, 10:52 am

After resting the black drawer on the table, Pendrell unlocked the safe deposit box. "Here they are." 

Dawkins barely glanced at them. "Okay, I believe you." 

"What? That's all you wanted to see?" Falling back on old habits, Skinner had been pacing by the open doorway. 

Dawkins swiveled to face him. "If it makes you feel better, I'll look at them." He lifted the envelopes out, comparing the copies against the originals. "If you had been in the least reluctant to show them to me, or had tried to claim they had been lost, I would have accused you of faking the whole thing." He watched Pendrell stacking the documents away carefully. "But you weren't." Leaning forward, he caught Pendrell's eye. "What's your motivation in all this? Mulder and Scully work directly for Skinner, but you don't. Why are you here?" 

The blue-eyed technician flushed a shade brighter than his hair. "I'm an agent. We're trained to go after lawbreakers wherever they are, no matter how powerful or wealthy. Once Agent Scully described the magnitude of the evil that had been perpetrated here, I couldn't sit idly by." 

Dawkins cocked his head. "That's real noble of you. I'll be certain to write you up as the crusading Agent Pendrell in my first story. What?" 

The technician was staring, open-mouthed, at Skinner. "Sir?" The word ended with a slight squeak. "I thought he wasn't to use our real names? You said you told him that." 

Stalking over, Skinner grasped Dawkins's shoulder. "I did. No identification. We show you the evidence, let you verify it, help you write the story, but we stay undisclosed sources. Got that?" 

Dawkins raised his chin. "Yeah, right. No names. What are you so afraid of? That you'll lose your jobs?" 

Skinner shook his head. "My position doesn't matter. We're both in a very delicate situation right now. If our names are published, we will lose the access to these materials we have at present." He clapped his hands once. "Then, poof! There goes your Pulitzer." 

Dawkins rose. "Then no names. It makes a better story that way." He waited while Pendrell slid the drawer back into its slot before the three left.

\--o-0-o--

Savanna, southern Sudan  
Sunday, April 12, 1998  
7:12 am

Saunders stopped the Land Rover just below the ridge of a dune. "Our destination is just beyond, Mulder." 

Scully squinted into the rising sun. "So, what do we need?" 

Knox glared down her nose at the auburn-haired agent. "Not your weapons. The metal detectors will trip on them almost immediately." 

Mulder snorted. His repeated requests for more information on his Father had been rebuffed at each instance, so he had settled into an active dislike for the older woman. "So, we charm our way in?" 

Saunders shook his head. "*Your* weapons, no." Stepping down, he pulled open the back door of the Rover. "These, yes." He had unlocked one of the small blue crates, its edges reinforced with wide strips of aluminum, to remove several bubble-wrap encased bundles. 

Knox pulled a small birch box from the glove compartment, sliding back the lid to show Scully the contents. "Do you recognize these?" 

Scully stared at the white projectiles packed inside. "Ceramic casings?" 

Mulder tore the opaque wrap off one of the bundles, revealing a tan handgun with a box-shaped barrel. "Plastic and ceramic, too." He passed one bundle to Scully. "Swiss-made, by the look of it." 

Nodding, she dropped several of the bullets in Mulder's hand before turning to Knox. "Anything we need to know about these?" 

Saunders responded from behind them. "They are close-range weapons. The casings are slightly heavier than conventional projectiles, the barrels less accurate at a distance. Use them only if you have to defend yourself." 

Mulder sighted down the barrel. "This is so wide, how do I aim?" 

Scully ran her finger along an off-center line. "There. Wreaks havoc with all those hours on the Bureau range, doesn't it?" 

Mulder nodded. 

Knox passed each of them a bullet-proof vest. "The smaller one's for you, Scully. They're Israeli. Probably the only army to make these for women." 

After strapping themselves in, they set off in a line, Saunders leading Scully, then Knox, with Mulder bringing up the rear.

\--o-0-o--

FBI Field Office  
San Diego, California  
Sunday, 12:42 pm

Phillip Nichols shifted a box from one of his visitor's chairs to the carpet. "Agent Pendrell, good to see you again!" 

The red-haired agent flashed his teeth nervously. "Sorry to call you both in on such short notice." His eyes focused on the navy blue and white 'Super Bowl Champions' banner framed and mounted behind the desk. Turning slowly, he realized Nichols had covered the wall with either older orange and blue Broncos memorabilia or the newer blue and white versions.

Enjoying the moment before they settled down to business, Andrea Rosen patted Pendrell's shoulder. _If anybody, he would have been good for Scully._ "No problem. How's Cynthia? Has she come to you for help yet?" 

His blue eyes wide, Pendrell nodded. "Oh, yes. I've asked Director Skinner if she could co-op down in the labs. It would help her afford her studies, and, with all the work I seem to be doing for the group, I could use an assistant." 

Rosen smiled. "She's too bright a kid to be a secretary all her life. Now, what do you need us to do for you?" 

Pendrell shifted his weight from his left foot to his right. "Um, it isn't for me." 

Nichols settled into his new canvas and leather desk chair, waving Pendrell into a seat. "Oh? Walt didn't say anything when he told us you were coming." 

Rosen crossed her arms as she leaned against Nichols' grey metal desk. "Didn't or couldn't, Nic?" 

The older man shrugged. "Doesn't matter, Ros."

Pendrell leaned forward. "It's about Mulder and Scully, actually. We think they're somewhere in Africa, but we don't know where." 

Rosen settled on one of the boxes by Pendrell, her action prompting Nichols to clear a seat for her as well. "There were several possible locations we were scouting before we were called off to help collect evidence for the trial. We thought the Consortium was searching for the original primate ancestor in the Western Rift Valley, so we were looking at a suspicious formation in Sudan."

Nichols walked around to lean on the edge of his desk that Rosen had just vacated. "What danger are Mulder and Scully in?" 

Pendrell flushed as he looked up at him. "Danger? None, really, I hope. Director Skinner isn't sure how fast the changes in the Consortium are happening, so he wants to keep track of them." 

Rosen leaned over the agent's shoulder. "Have you checked with the Gunmen? If anyone will know, they will." 

Pendrell's cheeks colored. "Um, no." 

Rosen cocked her head. "Now, the guys have been nothing but helpful with us. They know who you are, don't they?" 

The red-haired agent nodded. "Oh, yes. Whenever I call anymore, I seem to reach the short one, um, - " 

"Frohike," the former partners prompted.

Pendrell bit his lip before he continued. "But he won't talk to me." 

Rosen and Nichols grinned at each other, then the mustachioed man replied, "Agent Pendrell, in case you haven't realized, 'the short one' thinks of you as competition for a certain auburn-haired lady fair. I'll give them a call." 

Pendrell's lips formed into an O as Nichols began punching in numbers.

\--o-0-o--

Rowhouse  
Capital Hill  
Washington, DC  
Sunday, 1:53 pm

Lindhauer was pacing angrily, waiting for the phone call to complete. After twenty rings, he threw the black unit against the wall. "Why won't they answer! We're the ones in charge! They're the ones who lost the shape-shifters!" 

McConnell rose from the sofa to pat his shoulder. "It's okay, Gil, just calm down. That's only the first place you've tried. We just need a few troops to head to Santorini to finish Mulder and the others for us. Try the group down in Norfolk. They should be all our recruits." 

A nod of the blond head, then more taps. "Hello?" The icy blue eyes narrowed. "I'm getting a recording." He shook his head. "There's no one there either." 

McConnell began pacing now. "Okay, we'll have to contact 'Ace' and 'Charlie.' They may still be in good with Black Lung. We still may be all right. Gil! Where are you going?" 

The lean blond form was running to his import. "I have to go think! I'll be all right! Just keep working on finding some help!"

The red-haired man rubbed his nose under his glasses before he began entering in a new string of numbers.

\--o-0-o--

Sudanese savanna  
Sunday, 9:43 pm

Knox brushed sand off a panel to the left of the doorway, exposing a matrix of lights, some blinking, some cracked and black, but a few still glowing steadily. She reached up to eye level to clear a small lens with her sleeve before turning to Saunders. "It needs to scan you so we can enter. If not you, then perhaps him." She pointed to Mulder.

Scully crossed her arms. _I don't like this._ "Why doesn't it work on you, *Miss* Knox?" 

Saunders glared at her. "You should know why, Agent Scully. Tina never had direct access to any of the Consortium's operations. This facility was abandoned about ten years ago to be storage, nothing more." 

Mulder rested one hand on Scully's shoulder. "It's okay. All this could do is blind him in one eye. He could take to wearing a patch, like Coleridge." 

Shrugging, she gave her assent in a wry retort. "So he could sit in Mississippi and scribble poems while the belles swoon?" 

Turning back to Saunders and the door, he called over his shoulder, "Sounds like a better retirement scheme than FERS, Scully."

Knox glared at one, then at the other, partner before she smashed her fist against the doorway. "Agent Mulder! We have serious work ahead of us here!" 

Waving one hand at the others, Saunders bent forward, flinching as a blue line of light swept his right eye. Some mechanism deep in the door shuddered into life, grinding as the steel door bent partway into its recessed frame. 

Mulder winked at his partner. "Ooh, looks like Scotty forgot about maintenance for this bulkhead." 

While Scully and Saunders were shoving the barrier into its bay, Knox was loading her weapon. The older woman pointed the barrel at the sand before sidling in ahead of the rest. "I think we're clear." 

Once the four were inside the darkened corridor, they waited while their eyes adjusted. The dim lighting along the ceiling was as poorly maintained as the coded entrance panel, so there were only occasional patches of red light in the hall stretching out ahead of them. They fumbled for their flashlights. 

Saunders swept his white beam down the floor, stopping when it illuminated the pressure-activated sensors recessed there. "There's one in front of each cross-corridor or doorway."

Mulder smirked. "Oh, so do they open up to pits of man-eating crocodiles or send boulders rolling after us?" 

Deeply angered, Knox struck him on the cheek. "Neither. This facility is designed to defeat looters who might break in. There are projectile discharge units mounted in the walls. Step on a pressure pad and you'll be caught in their cross-fire." To prove her point, she disappeared outside, returning with a white cobble that she tossed onto the pad. The repeated weapons fire had them all shielding their ears. 

After the din ceased, Saunders straightened. "The protection system is automatically reloaded from a reservoir of thousands of rounds, so we can't just trip the pads and wait. We have to avoid them in the first place."

Scully arched one auburn eyebrow. "I assume these are designed so they can't be deactivated from up here?" 

Saunders nodded. "The only controls are on the bottom level of this facility."

They slid along the wall past the first detector until they reached a cross-corridor, where Scully stopped to look over her shoulder at Saunders and Knox. "Okay, anybody know where the information you wanted to show us is stored?" 

The bearded man sighed. "To your left, Agent Scully. These places are all laid out as duplicates of the Pentagon. Once we leave this ground level, the pressure sensors won't obstruct us." 

The four proceeded in silence until they reached a locked stairwell. 

Mulder flicked his light around the door frame. "No access lens. What gets us in here?" 

Knox held up a lockpick set. "Nothing high-tech, Agent Mulder." 

After several clicks set the door free, Scully aimed her light up at the ceiling of the stairwell. "No security cameras. They really must have been confident about those pressure sensors." She looked back at Saunders. "Up or down?" 

He pointed toward the floor. "There are no video cameras in the facility, since the technology is unreliable over the time scales this building was intended to be abandoned during. Heat sensors were used instead. To guard against setting off the alarms for random signals, the units only trigger if a signal persists for ten seconds or longer. We need to keep moving and should turn off the flashlights, too." 

The four assumed the walking formation they had used when they arrived, feeling their way by the handrail down the steps.

\--o-0-o--

Underground Parking Lot  
J. Edgar Hoover Building  
Sunday, 12:41 pm

Walter Skinner leaned against the fender of his Acura as he keyed in the combination for his door lock. A click snapped him around, his back against the wall, his weapon fully at two-handed attention. 

The old man drew on the Morley once, then held the smoke before exhaling a curling stream. "Working on a Sunday morning. Such dedication, Assistant Director Skinner. I remember when your efforts were directed toward more noble objectives than the political aggrandization of a simple Senator from Virginia." He lowered his hand until the burning end of the cigarette rested against the silver trunk. "I wonder, does your wife miss you?" 

Clenching his fists, Skinner advanced on him. "Leave my wife out of this. She knows nothing of what I do." 

The Morley shifted slightly. "Ah. That much of your training at my hands you *do* remember." The wrinkled visage narrowed around the eyes. "It was almost you, you know." 

Glaring over at the exit, Skinner tucked his SIG behind his back. "Almost me what?" 

Another puff. "You, not the unfortunate Mister Saunders, were almost my choice for Mulder's contact. Would you have liked that better, I wonder? Not having to waste your life with the tedium of staff meetings, budgets, funding hassles?" 

Light reflected off round lenses as a bald head bent down to meet the coiffed one. "I like my life just fine, thank you. All I need to know is what you have planned." Skinner flung himself at the old man, spinning him around and catching him in a choke-hold. "Where are Mulder and Scully? What are they chasing? How many other shape-shifters are loose on this planet?" A twist of wiry muscles, then the Assistant Director was grunting, staring up from his supine sprawl in front of his car, into a pair of dark eyes. 

The old spy retrieved his Morley from the bumper of the Acura, grimaced, then tossed it under a Honda across from them. "But you never did learn manners. You don't do that to an old man, Walter, not one who stays in shape, anyway." He rose from his crouch, waiting for the bald man to pull himself to his feet. "Answers to those questions you had just asked are exactly why I'm here." 

Skinner checked his wire-rims, looking over only when he was satisfied the lenses had not cracked. "Oh? I thought you didn't have access to those answers anymore." 

The old man lit another Morley. "That too, is why I am here." 

Skinner propped himself against the Acura. "You're putting together a new Organization and you want me to rejoin you, is that it?" 

Lined hands smoothed down grey wool. "Not new. Sometimes what is old can be repaired." Polished black leather edged forward. "With you or without you, Walter, the time is very near when I will be a force again." He waved toward the pavement. "These calisthenics can be considered either an exercise in futility, or a re-opening of negotiations. It's your choice, Walter." 

Skinner bared his teeth at the old man. "I've made my choice. Are you planning on telling me where Mulder and Scully are?" 

The old man set his lips. 

Skinner yanked open the driver's door. "Then we have nothing further to say to each other." Sliding behind the wheel, he snarled, "I suggest you step away. I wouldn't want to hit you while exiting this parking space." 

A nod, followed by the rapping of leather soles. 

Skinner raced the engine, then set his tires squealing as he pulled out.

\--o-0-o--

Secure Facility  
Sudanese savanna  
Sunday, 8:21 pm

Mulder touched his partner's shoulder, calling her attention back to him. "How far down do you think we are, Scully?" 

Slowing her pace, she leaned back against him as they walked. "After that last elevator ride?" She stopped, waiting until Knox and Saunders were several paces ahead of them. "I don't know. The car was in motion for one hundred and eighty three seconds after the doors closed, but it was so silent I couldn't begin to estimate the rate of descent." 

He glanced at the other two before responding. "Building in a dry region, this could be a whole buried skyscraper and we couldn't tell." 

She tucked her hair behind her ear. "Or the deepest launch facility you could imagine. We've been walking in circles, which would imply that the center's hollow." She placed her hands, fingers splayed, on her hips. "If all one has to propel a vehicle into deep space is rocket technology, then a contained chamber such as this might be would be far more efficient."

Mulder nodded. "A missile silo. Built in case the first invasion happened before we developed interstellar travel capability. These guys *were* thinking long-term. We've been passing labs of electronics, some of which look like they still run on vacuum tubes." He shrugged. 

She crossed her arms. "We've been passing stuff I'm sure isn't in the Smithsonian, either." 

"Whispering in the darkness won't get you any closer to answers, Agent Scully." Knox was glaring at them, Saunders just behind her. 

The bearded African-American pointed back the way they had come. "In case you've forgotten, there are automatic sensors here. The air in the facility may be as hot as a human body, but it's always in motion. So keep moving or we'll be detected." He looked up at the dark-haired agent. "Do you want answers or not, Mister Mulder?" 

The dark-haired agent faced him, arms akimbo. "Whose answers? Mine, or yours?" 

Knox pushed her way between them. "This is neither the time nor the place for testosterone-driven posturing." She glared up at Mulder. "If you've ever wondered how your Father was involved in all this, we have to get to the lowest levels of this facility." Her lips set in a thin line, she eyed Scully. "At the one hundred and twentieth floor below the surface, or fifty floors left to go." She cocked her head. "Tell me, Doctor Scully, what happens to a human body when it descends rapidly over that distance?" 

Scully arched one brow. "The rapid change in pressure would destroy the balance of fluids in the inner ear, causing disorientation, dizziness, and if too rapid, could lead to hearing loss. Do any of the elevators go all the way from the top to the bottom, or do they all only lift over short distances?" 

Knox shrugged. "Most are only twenty stories. Yet another defensive scheme, in case you couldn't figure that out. Since there are control facilities located on the bottom level, there are three emergency escape elevators. When we reach the bottom, I'll point them out to you; they're the ones with green doors." She raised her chin. "But the acceleration is close to eight g's." 

Saunders moved Knox aside with a hand on her shoulder. "They were tested regularly while I was here, many years ago, so they should still work. But I wouldn't want to depend on them." He waved the brown-haired woman forward. "Shall we?" 

After exchanging a glance, the agents fell in step behind Saunders and Knox.

\--o-0-o--

Lowenberg Residence  
Santorini, Greece  
Sunday, 9:48 pm

Margaret Scully sighed as the glass door opened behind her. _I didn't want to have to be polite just yet._ Pulling a smile over her lips, she turned to the person standing just inside the enclosed porch. 

Max Lowenberg, his broad shoulders swathed in a wool comforter, was studying her pensively over his half glasses. "You want to go home, don't you, Maudie?" 

Her mask dropped, leaving her struggling with a stubborn lump in her throat. "How did you know?" 

Taking a seat at the glass-topped table across from her, he patted her hand gently. "You used to wander all around the house, smiling at the wildflowers, watching the sun rise and set with joy in your face. Now you just sit and stare off to the west. I'm no FBI agent, but I can work it out." 

She turned her palm to grasp his fingers. "Max, I'm grateful for all you and Caroline have done for me and my family." 

He shook his head. "We've loved having you, in spite of all the turbulence." 

"And you've helped me with my son, for which I can never repay you, Margaret." Caroline stood behind her, grasping both shoulders. 

Margaret folded her hands in her lap. "Fox. I used to think he was just misunderstood, but now I'm not sure." She stared down at her fingers. "He respects and appreciates Dana very much, in his own way, but I can't help but worry that they aren't walking down a path to their own mutual destruction." 

Max shifted on the cushions. "Or, they're guiding each other safely through a minefield." Having caught Caroline's hand in his own, he sighed. "We all worry, Maudie. At our age, it's sometimes all we can do for them." 

Caroline bent over her. "But you can do more, Margaret." 

Perplexed, the dark-haired woman looked up. "More? But Dana said I wasn't safe at home. How has that changed?" 

Max pulled a chair around for his wife, smiling as she sat. "We know how much of what's in that book of your Captain's is true." He interlaced his fingers on the tabletop. "As difficult as it may be for you, you should leave the book with us." 

Margaret opened her mouth to protest, but all she did was squeak. 

Caroline nodded. "We'll place it in a safe-deposit box with the rest of the documents we've been guarding. You have no idea what any of that means, outside of this Christina Knox-" She flicked her eyes at her husband. "-this Lilith in my family's past." 

Max shook his head. "Caroline, we can't know that for certain." He rubbed her palm with his thumb. "But it shouldn't keep Maudie here any longer." 

The white-haired woman closed her eyes, then forced herself to nod. "Yes, Max." 

Margaret sighed. "I'm sorry. I've made you two argue." 

"No!" Husband and wife stared at her before Caroline plunged ahead. "I've been fortunate to have your friendship, Margaret, but for the sake of that friendship, I shouldn't cling to you selfishly. We can have you on a plane back to the States by tomorrow, if you wish."

The Pomeranian chose that moment to pad into the room. 

Margaret bit her lower lip momentarily. "But, Mister Fuzz..."

Caroline shook her head. "Is as welcome to remain with us as you are. But he's had his shots, so he could return to the US with you."

Margaret broke into a broad smile, then sobered. "Yes. I think I'd like that very much."

\--o-0-o--

Underground Structure  
Sudanese savanna  
Sunday, 11:47 pm

The descents and circumlocutions had finally brought the four to the end of a long, narrow corridor. On their left, a sealed door set flush with the wall tantalized them, but, outside of the simple line around it, there was no indication that any opening existed.

Mulder glanced around. "Okay, what next? I don't see a lens, or an keyed lock. How do we get in?" He pulled his red-handled knife from his jeans pocket. "Can opener?" 

Scully, feeling the crack for any access, tossed a quick snort back at his joke. 

Saunders rolled his eyes.

Knox whirled on him, slapping his cheek with a flattened hand. "You! I've had just enough out of you. You aren't half the man your Father was." 

Mulder clenched his fists, preparing to shout back, but relented when he heard his partner shift. 

The diminutive pathologist was holding out her hand. "Pass me that can opener, Mulder." She arched one auburn brow. 

Mulder stepped around a still-fuming Knox. "What do you have, Scully?" 

Saunders was pushing on the end wall. "The access panel's been sealed off." 

Scully had scraped a line in the corner of the hall, then, after peering in with her light, began scoring a square that intersected the wall on one side. "There's something behind here."

Saunders rested the butt end of his light on the wall, striking at it with his fist. "It's probably the access panel. For some reason, this door was retooled to provide only an exit." 

Mulder stood with his hands on his hips, feeling the inside of his cheek with his tongue before he spoke. "I hardly think they were concerned with fire codes." He glanced over at Knox, who glared at him, then dropped her gaze to continue digging through her backpack. 

Saunders looked back over his shoulder. "Actually, it probably was. The launch chamber is just on the other side of that door, but there was never anything built to send up from here." 

Scully struck the drywall with her fist, punching in a hole, then pulling the gypsum board out with her fingers. "Still waiting for that great technological leap, I see." 

Mulder added his weight to hers and Saunders's. "Or the vehicles they eventually used didn't need a launch tube." 

Any further discussion ceased when the punctured section of the wall fell away, exposing the locking mechanism for the door.

\--o-0-o--

Underground Structure  
Sudanese savanna  
Monday, April 13, 1998  
12:08 am

Saunders reached out to place his palm over the assemblage of needles sticking up out of a small ledge. An outline of a hand, the wrist at the edge of the shelf, glowed red as the bearded man's fingertips pressed lightly down on the syringe points. "This part of the facility was designed for extremely restricted access, but if my retinal scan worked up top, I may still be able to get us in down here." In the silence, each of them heard a small pop, then, his face grim, the African-American lifted his fingers off the template. Blood ran down from the five digits, prompting Scully to reach for her backpack. 

Mulder peered in at the lock mechanism. "The outline's still red." 

Knox snatched the bandages from the pathologist's hand. "I'll do that. You know what has to happen now, don't you?" 

Scully arched a brow. "Let me look." After a moment's examination of the damaged thumb, she nodded. "This is more than just blood typing." 

Grimacing, Mulder, his hands on his hips, peered over her shoulder. "What are you saying, Scully?" 

Ignoring Knox, she pressed gauze against the cut. "Mulder, if you remember our discussion in Klemper's greenhouse, I told you that DNA hadn't been discovered as of the end of World War II. But, blood typing had. I'm willing to bet that the original mechanism would give admittance to persons of a single blood type, O, for instance, but not others." 

Saunders shook his hand free of both women. "I'll finish this, thank you." 

A nod, then Scully passed Saunders more gauze. "But, as we've become more sophisticated in our understanding of genetics and human heritability, it's been possible to refine specific traits to specific families." 

Mulder cocked his head. "Scully, I appreciate the lecture, but what's your point?" 

Scully crossed her arms. "You also remember that the Consortium originally wanted you, rather than Samantha, and that the first person we encountered with an implant like mine was Duane Barry, not the MUFON women."

He nodded. "Yeah, so?" 

"Well, given the increased genetic content of the X chromosome over and above the Y, that seemed to be driving them to sample women, you have to ask why." 

Mulder began waving his hands in a beckoning gesture. "The punchline, Doctor. I'll trust that you've done your research properly." 

She nodded. "There are non-replicating sections of the Y chromosome that only sons inherit from their fathers." She pointed to the locking mechanism. "That monstrosity takes tissue samples, not just blood platelets. *Deep* tissue samples." 

He sighed. "So, this thing is programmed to recognize something in my Father's DNA, that I would have and Sam wouldn't, but something more than what can be derived from skin, which someone could simply glue on a glove." 

Knox rolled her eyes. "Yes, of course." The brunette lifted an anti-static bag from her backpack, turned it over, then shook it until the contents slid out into the palm of her hand. Resting there was a fingertip-sized wafer of silicon, several memory chips mounted on either side. "This is a replacement CPU for the locking system, which I've programmed to recognize your Father's Y chromosomes." She felt around under the lock until the rest heard a click, an identical card fell away, then she slid hers into place. "Now that the Mister Wizard moment is over, we have work to do." She grasped Mulder's hand, then slammed the fingers down on the needles. 

As a howl escaped from him, Mulder's face contorted. "That went deep!" 

Knox pushed him aside rudely. "Your father would never have complained." 

Scully materialized at his elbow. "I was attempting to warn you. It samples bone cells as well as soft tissue." 

Biting his lip, he extended his supine hand toward her. "They really didn't want anyone breaking in here." 

Saunders sighed. "It may all have been for nothing. The door's not activated yet, and we should have heard automatic safeguards activating after my attempt was rejected. This facility may be dead after all."

Knox shook her head. "No, give the new algorithm time to work."

As if in answer to her, the outline of the hand began flashing green. 

Saunders pointed one bandaged finger at the barrier. "Well, what is it we are waiting for?" 

A steel plate sealed the end of the hall from which they had come. 

Scully scrambled for her plastic weapon. "It's a trap! She's triggered a trap for us!" 

Saunders glared at the older woman. "Is this why you brought us here? To die?" 

Knox was glancing frantically around the room. "It was supposed to work! It was supposed to give us admittance to the control center!" 

A hissing sound silenced them all, continuing until four bodies were sprawled on the floor, deeply unconscious.

\--o-0-o--

Athens Airport  
East Terminal  
Tuesday, April 14, 1998  
3:46 pm

Caroline wrapped her arms around Margaret one last time. "Thank you for all you've done, my dear. You may have felt like a fifth wheel at times, but we couldn't have accomplished all we did without you." 

Biting her lower lip, the dark-haired woman nodded. "I'm the one who's grateful, Caroline. I know a little more about what my daughter does and how important her work is. She'd never discuss these things in Annapolis." She reached up to the white-haired man's shoulders. "You have a wonderful home, Max. Thank you for taking me to Israel." 

Bending down, he patted her spine as he held her. "My pleasure, Maudie." Stepping back, he fished a folded sheet from his coat pocket. "Dana had a letter for you, but she only wanted you to read it when you were returning home." Clasping both of her hands in his, he nodded to her. "Safe journey." Pressing his hand against his wife's back, Max waited with her until their guest, animal carrier in hand, had stepped through the boarding door. 

Caroline leaned gently against his side. "I will miss her so." 

Max smiled down at her. "I will, too." After a moment's pause, he rubbed her spine. "We should be getting back, dearest, unless you have some shopping you'd like to do?" 

Caroline rolled her eyes. "Max! You *know* how I hate to haggle for everything. No, a nap back at the apartment before dinner would be wonderful."

\--o-0-o--

Delta flight 3053  
Tuesday, 4:03 pm

Finally settled by the window before take-off, Margaret unfolded the paper Max had handed her. 

"Mom,

"I asked Max to give you this as you left because I don't want you to tell anyone what I need you to do. I'm not entirely certain Max's house is free of covert surveillance devices. But, that may be my paranoia talking after too much time with Mulder and the Gunmen. 

"There's someone you need to go see, Mom, before you talk to Charlie for me. I need a blood and skin sample from him for testing. Part of the reason I was abducted was because, believe it or not, I'm Irish. The groups we've told you about are assembling a DNA data base like the human genome project. Only, they want more than a sequence of DNA. They want all the variations, too, including those from our family." 

Margaret gasped, eliciting a stare from the passenger in the aisle seat. Finding her hands were shaking, she dropped the tray from the seat in front of her, smoothed the paper down over its yellowed plastic surface, then forced herself to concentrate on the black marks on the page. 

"I don't mean to scare you, Mom, I don't think any one of us is in danger of being kidnapped. If anyone, they would have wanted Mel, but it's too late for that now. I just need to be able to prove this idea to my own satisfaction. 

"So, please, when you land, go to the Bureau and talk to Director Skinner. He can put you in touch with the agent who's helping me on this investigation, Arthur Pendrell. You'll like him, Mom, he looks like a relative. Ask Pendrell for a cell sampling kit and have him explain to you how to use it. It shouldn't be too scary for you, after all, you used to give Great-grandmother O'Shea her insulin shots when you were a girl. When you have the samples, bring them back for Pendrell to test. He knows what to look for. 

"If, for some reason, Pendrell is on a case (he is in a different group from us and is helping us on his own time), call Susan Miles up at Hopkins Hospital. You remember Susan, she was in medical school with me and came to the house for Thanksgiving once. Tell her what you need and she'll help you. 

"As a last resort, go to the Gunmen. I hate to ask you to go to their place. I'm used to it, but they are three guys who live under the same roof most of the time. Housecleaning is, well, optional. Explain to Byers (the bearded one, you remember) what you need and they'll help you. 

"As for phone numbers, Susan can be reached through the Hopkins Hospital exchange, and I've encrypted the Gunmen's address on my computer. Just boot up the machine, log in as "mom" with "melissa" as a password (all lower case, this is a LINUX system) and type "show lgm". The information you need will appear on the screen. Memorize the address if you can, or write it down only if you have to. Then turn off the machine. (Please don't forget to do this. They'll kill me if they find out I've made their location this accessible.) Don't call first, just go over there. They'll want to see your face before they let you in. 

"When you've read this note, please go in the bathroom, tear it up and flush it. As you can imagine, this can't be intercepted and used against us. 

Dana" 

Margaret folded the page along its original creases. _Very well, baby girl. I'll do as you ask. I need to speak with Charlie in any case._

\--o-0-o--

Athens Airport  
East Terminal  
Tuesday, 4:46 pm

Max Lowenberg was just unlocking the passenger door for Caroline when he felt a brush against his elbow. Looking back over his shoulder, he queried, "Yes, dearest?" 

Caroline tightened her grip on his arm. "We have company, Max." 

The white-haired man pulled himself erect, finding he was towering over a short, bespectacled Greek. "How may I help you?" 

The balding man withered slightly. "Are you Maximillian David Lowenberg?" 

The white-haired couple exchanged a glance before Max replied, "No, I'm not." He glowered down at the unwanted interruption. 

The beak-nosed man gulped. "Oh. Oh, dear. Minister Askoras will be most upset. Most upset indeed." In a gesture that brought a slight quirk to Caroline's lips, he began rubbing his palms against each other. 

She stepped between the two men. "And what would Minister Askoras want with Maximillian David Lowenberg?" 

Their visitor retreated further. "Oh, would you happen to know where he is? I saw the Santorini sticker on your bumper and just assumed. Oh, dear. The Minister has said over and over that he needs to contact him urgently. He won't always take his naps the way the doctor said he should. Oh, dear." 

Since the little man was wide-eyed, Max reached for his shoulder. "I'm Max Lowenberg. What does that old goalie want from me now?" 

The nose began bobbing. "Oh, you must come to his office. You must come immediately." He waved his arms, the hands swinging from side to side. "I *wish* he wouldn't send me off on these errands. I hate them so, I break out in, in *perspiration*!" He took off running toward a waiting cab.

Max called after him. "The office downtown?" 

His chalk-white hand gripping the glass of the window, the clerk nodded. "Oh, yes, the downtown office. Oh, yes." As the couple watched, he began jabbering to the taxicab driver, who listened patiently.

Caroline slid into the passenger seat, waiting until her husband was settled to query, "You played soccer?" 

Max chuckled. "Not very well. But enough to make a few friends." The engine made a tinny rattle as it sputtered into life.

\--o-0-o--

Government Office  
Athens, Greece  
Tuesday, 6:12 pm

The couple was escorted by Alexander onto a spacious, sun-filled veranda, where Minister Askoras, leaning on a cane, walked forward to greet them. "Maximillian!" The two men shook hands. 

Max guided his wife forward. "This is my second wife, Caroline Podhowitz Lowenberg." 

Grasping the cane with both hands, Askoras bowed slightly. "Mrs. Lowenberg." He turned immediately to Max again. "I have news for you concerning your son." 

Max shook his head. "Not my son. Caroline's son, Fox William Mulder." 

Another short bow. "Indeed. When he met with me, he asked if there would be any reason he would be followed. Well, I have been checking, and I think I have come up with some answers." 

Caroline held up one hand. "We've been looking into that ourselves. We think we have found the persons responsible. They're not, shall we say, from any one of the countries you might expect. One might say they aren't from any countries as all." She exchanged a glance with her husband.

The broad-shouldered Greek eyed her, slightly puzzled by the poise and directness. "Oh, we might be talking at cross purposes, then." He faced Max. "I've recently come into some intelligence related to Neo-Nazi activities in the former East Germany that may be of interest to you." 

Caroline stepped forward. "It probably concerns me." 

Askoras looked over into her face. "As a matter of fact, it does. And your son. He's headed off to the deserts of Africa, hasn't he?" 

Max rested his hand on Caroline's shoulder. "Yes, but he wouldn't say where." 

Askoras settled on one of the wooden benches. "If he's gone to Sudan, he's headed into trouble. There's an old facility there that will be used as a target in some NATO exercises soon. It's been abandoned, but it seems terrorist groups have taken it as a base." 

Caroline bent over him. "Pardon my asking, but which terrorist groups?" 

Perturbed, Askoras tapped the cane on the stone. "I'm not at liberty to say." 

She settled beside him. "When did you find this out?" 

He shrugged.

She clenched her fists. "If this information came to you just recently, then I know who's behind it." 

Max looked down at her. "The old man with the cigarettes?" 

She sighed. "I'm afraid so. I wonder what he really had planned for that area. We need to find Fox and Dana somehow to warn them."

\--o-0-o--

Office of the Lone Gunmen  
Alexandria, Virginia  
Wednesday, April 15, 1998  
4:23 pm

Margaret Scully raised her hand to knock on the battered wooden door, then paused. _I hope this is the right place. I'd hate to have to explain myself to some babysitter._ Before she could rap once, she heard latches shifting inside. 

A long-haired blond man grinned broadly at her. "Mrs. Scully! We thought you were catching rays in the Med." He waved her inside. "It's cool out there, right?" 

Puzzled by the question, Margaret frowned at him, looking away only when she felt a brush of her elbow. _Ah, the bearded one in the suit._ "Mister Byers?" She was surprised at how tiny she felt. "I'm sure you're relieved your wife is safe."

Byers nodded. "Very much so. Come in, don't mind the mess." 

A third man was hastily snatching newspapers and maps off the couch when Margaret scanned the rest of the room. _Frohike. The one so desperate to marry a Scully he didn't care which one._ The memory curved her lips upward as she waved to Rosen and Nichols, who were comparing points on a map, _I thought they were in California?_ before her eyes lighted on a red-haired man seated at one of the computers along the wall. "Are you Agent Pendrell?"

A startlingly familiar pair of blue eyes met hers. "Yes Ma'am, I am." Rising, he extended his hand to her, taking hers firmly, but not in a bone-crushing grip as many of her Captain's officers had. "What can I do for you?" 

Feeling her nerve fail, Margaret sank quickly onto the sofa cushions. "Dana wanted me to get a cell sample kit from you. She said you would know what it was about. When I spoke with Director Skinner, he sent me here." 

Frohike, not to be deterred, poked his head in front of her face. "Dana? Where is she?" 

Margaret looked over, sensing all the eyes in the room on her. "You mean you don't know?" 

Nichols settled beside her. "No, Ma'am, that's why we're all working collectively here. We're attempting to piece together their last known destination so we can follow them." 

Margaret covered her mouth with her hand, then dropped it to her lap. "Why? Is Dana in danger?" 

The red-haired agent shook his head. "No, Ma'am, but we need to be sure she and Mulder stay that way." Sighing, Pendrell called upon his too-rusty witness interrogation training, then touched her shoulder gently, hoping to reassure her. "Did they say anything before they left?" 

Margaret nodded. "They were headed for Algiers." 

Langly unfurled a satellite image with a snap. "Then they're probably headed for here, although they're taking the long way to get there." He pointed to a pentagonally shaped discoloration in the savanna. 

The room was suddenly filled with Gunmen and agents in motion, all talking at once. Frohike was shouting about Land Rovers and helicopters, as Langly was pulling black boxes out of trunk-sized silver containers, while Byers was accessing web-sites to order survival gear. Rosen and Nichols were swapping predictions about weather conditions, while Pendrell was punching buttons on a cell phone. 

Margaret tapped the red-haired agent's arm. "The cell kit?" 

He rolled his eyes. "Oh, right. I'm sorry, Mrs. Scully." 

Assuming she had been dismissed, she pulled her hand away quickly. 

Sensing her discomfort, he shook his head. "My mistake." He rose. "Hey, guys." It was a loud a voice as he could muster, but it barely dented the din. 

Something caught Nichols' ear, so he looked over, then tapped Rosen on the shoulder. 

Before Margaret was fully aware of how it happened, the three agents were clustered around her, and they were all outside. "I need the cell collection kit, and I need to know how it works," she repeated.

Nichols nodded. "Sorry, Ma'am. We all got a little excited in there." 

Margaret smiled. "Dana told me how hard you all worked on the trial." 

Rosen patted her shoulder. "We know this must seem strange to you, but you've done the right thing by coming to us." 

Margaret found herself taking comfort from the repeated reassurances, then looked to the red-haired man. "Do you have a kit here?" 

Pendrell shook his head. "No, Ma'am, but I'll take you back to the Hoover Building. I can show you what you need to know there." 

Nichols looked Pendrell in the eye. "We'll keep you informed when we have arrangements made. I guess the big guy wants you along." 

Pendrell gulped. "Yeah. I guess he does." He pointed Margaret toward a battered green Honda Prelude a block up the street.

\--o-0-o--

Secured Facility  
Sudanese savanna  
Wednesday, 10:32 pm

Mulder was the first to awaken, coughing as he did. "Scully?" When he spotted his partner folded over her backpack, he crawled across to help her sit up. "You okay?" 

She rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. "I will be. How long do you think we were out?" 

Saunders was helping Knox. "I don't know, Agent Scully, but it looked like our modifications worked." He jerked his head toward the opening behind them. 

The space in front of Mulder and Scully stretched upward, out of the ring of lights they had just stepped into. Scully knew it was probably the launch silo they had worked their way around for the past few days. But what caught her attention were the stacked banks of drawers running around the cavernous space before them. 

As she began to cross over to them, Saunders reached out to grasp her shoulder. "I wouldn't step there just yet, Agent Scully." He pointed to a green beam of light at calf-height. 

She nodded. "How many of these are there?" 

Knox waved around the room. "In front of each elevator, and here." 

Mulder crossed his arms. "So, how do we check anything out?" He pointed to the drawers that had so fascinated Scully. "I'll bet these are what they're attempting to protect." 

Digging a pair of binoculars from her backpack, Scully scanned the room. "From the labels on the drawers, it looks like we were right, Mulder." 

He held them to his own eyes. "You think these are DNA records? I see the geographical notations." 

Saunders nodded. "With a special concentration on the differences among my own people." He waved his hand through the beam, then stared back through the door. "There's something really wrong here. Not only could we break in without tripping alarms, but these lights are meaningless." 

Knox shook her head. "Not necessarily." She held her jacket in the beam, waiting while the light intensified, then smoke began curling from the green spot on the material. "It's another automated response system. That wall was the only evidence someone's attempted to enhance what was in place ten years ago." 

Scully tucked her hair behind her ear. "We should be careful where we look. A UV or IR beam could be set to blind us without our seeing it. But, that would take so much power." Pensive, she tapped her chin with the binoculars. "Solar? But where?"

Knox put her hands on her hips. "Agent Scully, *think* for a moment." 

The auburn-haired pathologist crossed her arms. "The roof. That's why we see the shapes in satellite images. They've covered the roof with solar panels colored to look like the surrounding savanna."

Stepping between them, Mulder tapped her bag. "Is the UV sensor in there?" 

She passed it to him. "Of course." The ridges over one eyebrow, _Did you think I would forget it, Mulder?_ were met by a smirk from her partner, _Never in a million years, Scully._. 

Saunders hopped over the beam. At Mulder's stare, he replied, "No point asking for trouble. If I remember my briefing properly, there should be..." He crossed to a specific bank of drawers. "Yes, here they all are." 

Wearing a half-faced grin, Mulder scanned the area around the handles. "Is the tricorder picking up anything, Captain?" 

Glaring at the agent, Saunders clenched his jaw, but said nothing as Knox advanced. 

The older woman pulled Mulder around by the shoulder. "I'm tired of those remarks! Have you no idea how serious this all is?" She poked his chest. "Your father knew. He *knew*." 

Slinging the sensor angrily into his jeans pocket, Mulder bent into her face. "Shut the hell up about my Father! If you knew all this, knew about his choice, why didn't you save Samantha! Why didn't you stop them from taking her in the first place?" He grasped her by both shoulders. "Why did he have to make a choice at all?" 

She yanked herself free. "Maybe I didn't want him to be happy, Mulder. Did you ever think of that? Maybe I was selfish and wanted him all for me, not for a operatically ill wife and two children he neither wanted nor cared about." 

Backing her against the drawer fronts, he placed his hands on either side of her head. "Was that what he said to you, late at night, after stealing the love that should have been my Mother's: 'If I didn't have my family, we could be married?' Was it?"

She held her chin high. "I don't know what he said to his mistresses, *Fox* Mulder, *I* wasn't one of them." 

He staggered backwards, reeling from the revelation. "More than one? More?" 

Knox took a step forward. "Not everything between men and women is about sex." Her eyes flicked to Scully. "You should know that better than anyone, Bill Mulder's son." She held up her fisted hand, index finger uncurled. "We all need someone, some *one* person who knows who we are deep down inside. If a man is lucky, it's his wife. If he isn't then he has to find his confessor where he can." She struck her breastbone with her fist. "For your Father, that was I." 

Mulder backed away from her until he was against the drawer fronts, as she had been. "Why you? Why not my mother? Why the lies and deceit?" 

Knox placed her hands on her hips. "You, that's why." 

Scully stepped between them. "All right." Her words escaped in a growl. "I've heard enough. We have serious work to do." 

Mulder grasped her shoulder like a lifeline. "It's okay, Scully. I need to know." When she turned, his eyes cleared, then he stepped around her. "I need to know who my Father was." He advanced until he was standing toe to toe with the older woman. "What was it about me?" 

Knox crossed her arms. "You remember how she was. She waited and waited for a child, and as the years progressed, she became more withdrawn and morose. Your Father married her because she was someone independent and strong, lively and vivacious. He needed that strength to fight off his own darkness." She tipped her head. "Some things in your past aren't the result of interference by international conspiracies, Mulder." 

He shook his head. "But losing Samantha was. If you know where she is, please, *tell* me." 

Saunders pulled an envelope from the drawer. "She's here, Mulder. Your answers are here, just as we promised you." He was holding a DNA record in his hand. 

Scully lifted the over-sized Mylar sheet away. "These look fairly similar to the records Pendrell generated from the clothing you sent us, but until we can compare them side by side, I won't be sure." 

Mulder checked the dividers in the drawer further. "My whole family is in here, not just Samantha." 

Saunders shrugged. "Of course you are." He passed the envelopes with "Mulder" on the name lines to Scully, who was tucking them away into her backpack. "The records you saw in the Strughold mine were old, out of date. They only contained medical records from immunizations. They were a back-up to the data base you see here. Why else do you think you were allowed to find them in the first place?" 

Scully nodded. "We were only being shown what they wanted us to find. Remember the tissue collection containers? They were taken as a result of smallpox vaccinations. But starting about twenty years ago, when the disease was essentially wiped out, most vaccinating for that specific virus ceased."

Mulder huffed. "So those bodies I saw in the boxcar in New Mexico were at least that old, if not older." 

Scully shrugged. "Probably the first test subjects." 

Knox sighed. "Yes, Agent Mulder, all the workers for the Organization contributed their and their families' DNA for testing." 

Mulder pointed over his shoulder at the door. "But how? If it was a painful as that door lock outside?" 

Scully shook her head. "Mulder! Getting DNA for testing anymore is as easy as wiping down a phone after someone's made a call! In the past, it took large quantities of tissue, but now..." 

He held up both hands. "Obviously, I should spend more time in the labs, Scully." He pointed at the rest of the drawers. "So, all the rest of these are human DNA traces from around the world?" 

Knox nodded. "And some simians as well." 

Mulder shrugged. "But why store them here? Keeping live animals from this continent, here." He pointed both index fingers at the concrete. "It would be easier than shipping them back to the States, but traces like these? They could be sent over a FAX machine, right?" He looked to Scully. 

Nodding vigorously, she zipped the backpack shut, enclosing the DNA records, before she firmly slung both straps over her shoulders. "This isn't leaving my body, Mulder. I won't make the same mistake twice."

Saunders sighed. "The reason they're kept here is simple..." He turned to stare down at their feet. A deep rumble had begun, increasing in volume as the floor opened along a seam in the center. They had been standing on a set of doors, which were now recessing into the walls, but all was darkness beneath. The growing void forced the four backward toward the door which had offered them their original access. 

Knox had grasped the door frame with both hands. "It sounds like they're getting ready to launch something!"

Mulder shouted back, "Or this is another part of the automated security system!"

At that moment, the rumbling ceased. The cavernous silo now filled with the sound of a motor sputtering to life from high overhead, then purring contentedly. As they all stared upward, a shaft of light cut down from a widening opening in the roof of the structure to blind them all.

\--o-0-o--

End - Zurvan - Chapter XI - Emain Macha


	12. The Grey Havens

\-----o-----------------------------------------------------o-----

Chapter XII - The Grey Havens

\-----o-----------------------------------------------------o-----

When Spring unfolds the beechen leaf, and sap is in the bough;  
When light is on the wild-wood stream, and wind is on the brow;  
When stride is long, and breath is deep, and keen the mountain-air,  
Come back to me! Come back to me, and say my land is fair!

When Spring is come to garth and field, and corn is in the blade;  
When blossom like the shining snow is on the orchid laid;  
When shower and Sun upon the Earth with fragrance fill the air,  
I'll linger here, and will not come, because my land is fair.

When Summer lies upon the world, and in a noon of gold,  
Beneath the roof of sleeping leaves the dreams of trees unfold;  
When woodland halls are green and cool, and wind is in the West,  
Come back to me! Come back to me, and say my land is best!

When Summer warms the hanging fruit and burns the berry brown;  
When straw is gold, and ear is white, and harvest comes to town;  
When honey spills and apple swells, though wind be in the West,  
I'll linger here beneath the Sun, because my land is best! ...

Together we will take the road that leads into the West,  
And far away will find the road where both our hearts may rest.

"The Two Towers"  
J. R. R. Tolkien

\-----o-----------------------------------------------------o-----

Secluded Research Facility  
Sudanese savanna  
Wednesday, April 15, 1998  
10:41 pm

Saunders pointed down into the chasm of what had been the floor. "I think I see why the space was unguarded!" 

Rising on a hydraulic base, a long tube-shaped framework gleamed in the sun. Two brown-haired women were working, one at a panel controlling the lift, the other at a seat pointed away from her. The petite woman inside the superstructure glanced over at the hovering four, then called out in a series of clicks and buzzes. At the command, the long tool she held melted to the floor to reform itself into the shape of Luther. 

As she released a green lever, the brown-haired woman at the controls checked their visitors. "Oh, it's you. So, that is how long it takes the gas to wear off. We had wondered when you would awaken or whether we would have to carry you to safety." Once the base of the lift ceased vibrating, she stepped across the floor to the partners. "Why are you here? Shouldn't you be locating your sister, er, Samantha?" 

Mulder's lips parted in surprise. "We were. Why are you here?" 

She pointed behind her. "That. We still want to leave as we had originally planned. But that is the only vessel capable of interstellar transport. Your documents were the key which helped us find it." 

The agents exchanged a glance before Scully muttered, "I wonder which of you was following us in Greece?" 

In answer, the dark-haired, dark-suited man they remembered from Athens appeared from behind the framework. "I was. Some acts require a decision-maker." He waved contemptuously toward the brown-haired women. "Not those who think or those who build." The hulking form of Pilot popped up beside him. 

The Bavarian brushed past them from the corridor. "Perhaps now you understand that we bear you no ill-will." He smirked at the surprise registering on the faces of the partners. "Oh, thank you for the rest, courtesy of your Bureau. After the exertions of the island, it was welcome. But, excuse me, we are working on something of a deadline here, literally, thanks to the old men in Bonn."

A form shimmered down the side of the tube like a waterfall, materializing into Aurora. "Soldiers. Take charge and take credit. The man who wrote those notes was like you, so it was well that the two in Europe were warriors as was he. It is also well that the three of them will sleep through the return voyage." She turned to the two women with brown hair. "The mixtures should be optimum at present." After they nodded, she brushed her way past the four humans to step into the hall. 

Mulder trotted after her. "Where are you going?" 

But the alien sent back no answer, quickening Mulder's pace. He could hear the footsteps of the others behind him, accelerating to catch up as the bulk of the woman in front of them began shrinking. 'Aurora''s arms flattened, growing a fringe of iridescent feathers. Her pale fleshy face collapsed into a blue head and a needle-thin bill. The vast bulk had been reduced to that of a hummingbird, which, after a single backwards glance, took off down the hall. 

Scully was running alongside her partner, shouting over to him. "She can hide anywhere like that!" 

He spared her a glance. "An insect could do that job better!" The partners halted before an open lab door. 

Inside, the thick black benches had been covered with small Pyrex vats, each containing an expanding mass of the viscous substance they had seen last in a lab in Newhalem, Washington. A tiny winged form was siphoning off minuscule portions of the mass with its bill, darting around the lab to deposit the contents of its beak into containers of sand. That task finished, 'Aurora' rematerialized, using her fingers to activate the heaters in the room. 

Scully whispered, "But how is that possible? The Archaeon should dissolve a bird's beak as easily as our own teeth." She began approaching the alien, who had returned to hummingbird form to seed a new line of containers.

Saunders spoke from his spot by Mulder's elbow. "Not if the beak is made of something other than apatite, Agent Scully. All they need to use is the form, not the exact materials." He shook his head. "I was wrong to agree to come here. Alien technology truly is centuries ahead of our own. Nothing we do will stop the forward progress we have seen." 

Knox loaded two ceramic bullets into her weapon, then assumed a firing stance. "There's still plenty we can do." 

Scully pushed the other woman's gun down. "No, Saunders is right. But we might be able to reason with them."

The iridescent bird flitted from one face to the next, then began morphing back into human form. 

His hazel eyes glowing, Mulder turned to 'Aurora.' "What about it? What do you want so you'll go away and won't bother us anymore?" 

An array of fabrics swished as the round woman approached them. "We have given you the path to greater sentience: devote your species' intellect to cleansing your planet of the destruction your carelessness has caused. You have created the tools of your own salvation or extinction. We care neither way."

Knox jammed the weapon in the woman's stomach. "Oh, please. What is it? Are you in some war with another species that sends you out to look for raw materials to collect? Will you be returning with a conquering army that will reduce us all to mindless drudges?" 

'Aurora''s mass reformed around the weapon and the hand supporting it. "What? A woman of your intelligence *believes* the propaganda you pass out as entertainment?" There was a brief constriction of her stomach muscles.

Knox backed away, shaking her hand. 

Saunders grasped her by the arm. "This will *not* work. Don't you see?" 

Knox straightened. "But a well-placed detonation will destroy that last vessel of theirs."

Pointing his own weapon at the brown-haired woman, Mulder shook his head. "No. I won't let you do that."

Scully stared up at him. "Mulder! What are you saying? She may still be armed!" 

Shrugging off his partner's concern, Mulder kept his focus on Knox. "They'll leave whether we obstruct them or not." 

Saunders looked over. "Miss Knox, use that intelligence Bill Mulder prized so highly. If they could take a vessel nearly demolished fifty years earlier and rebuild it in this short time, they can recover from any acts of sabotage we might think to perform." He rose, knocking the dust off his knees. "But there is another way."

\--o-0-o--

Skinner Residence  
Falls Church, Virginia  
Friday, April 17, 1998  
8:27 pm

Nichols was pacing in front of Walter Skinner's fireplace. He paused long enough to glare at the bald Assistant Director, then resumed his angry perambulations. 

Rosen had watched her former partner long enough. "Nic, sit down. Pendrell's an agent; he's sure to be fine in the field." 

The red-haired man flushed at the mention of his name. "Th-thank you, Agent, I mean, Doctor Rosen. But I'd still prefer not to go with you. I'm not a good shot." He gripped the soft padding of the brocade armchair. 

Skinner rose, as agitated as Nichols. "Agent Pendrell is fully qualified for the task. Just because I'm leaving you two behind..." He set his teeth. "There's more going on here, Phil, than simply two agents in the desert. I shouldn't have to tell you that." 

Nichols, his hands on his hips, rounded on the taller man. "Exactly! You need to take the most seasoned people you have with you." He glanced over to meet Pendrell's wide blue eyes. "No offense, son." 

The red-haired agent held up both hands, but kept silent. 

Rosen walked to stand between the two men, looking first to Nichols, then Skinner. "You're concerned you may be caught in the NATO cross-fire, so you want us to keep clear." 

Skinner stepped back to sit again. "Exactly. If something happens and the four of us don't come back, you two have to keep the work going." He passed Nichols a safe-deposit key. "The documentation is all in there."

All color drained from Pendrell's face. "It's that serious?" 

Nichols advanced on him. "It is, Pendrell. We have an inkling as to the extent of the Consortium in this country: their goals, aims, and forces." He glanced at the floor. "But this, this *thing* is like a hydra: lop off one head and two more rise in its place. The work we all did for the trials has the American Organization on the ropes, but there are European and Asian factions we are only now beginning to guess at."

Rosen knelt in front of the red-haired man. "Arthur, think what happens if there's a Group like what we've exposed in China. Over a quarter of the world's population is under the control of a dictatorial government. There's no need for an Organization to worry about secrecy or concealment or paying lip service to the rule of law over there." 

Pendrell scrubbed his face with both hands. "With the economic engine they're spinning up, the power they will have at their disposal in the Three Gorges Dam, and all those people, we have no choice. We have to do this." Pushing himself to his feet, he stood in front of the Assistant Director. "I'm ready, Sir. There's just someone I need to say goodbye to first." 

Rising, Skinner glanced in the direction of his master bedroom. "We all have to make our farewells, Agent Pendrell." 

After the red-haired man departed, Skinner turned to Nichols. "Phil, despite any problems you and I have had in the past, you must see - "

Nichols bit his mustache once, then extended his hand. "Walt, I only want what's best for the Bureau." He pumped the former Marine's arm fiercely. "If you run into any problems, any at all, just holler, and we'll be there with bells on." 

Skinner walked the former partners to the door. "I'm counting on it, Phil." He faced the brunette. "You keep this old buzzard in line until we get back." 

After a quick nod, Rosen grasped the Director's arm. "What do you want to do with Cynthia? She can come back with us so Sharon won't have to worry about her." 

Skinner missed Nichols' odd glance at his former partner in his rush to assure her. "She's fine here. I'll have a couple of men keep the house under surveillance. Sharon knows what to do."

\--o-0-o--

Scully Residence  
Norfolk, Virginia  
Saturday, April 18, 1998  
11:17 am

"John-John! How many times have I told you: Don't play in the street!" After leaning away from her open front window, Val Scully set Little Chuck in his playpen, before trotting down the oil-stained concrete driveway to the sidewalk. "Get back here, right now!" 

John Scully, his almost three-year-old legs pumping furiously, diverted the neon green plastic tricycle up onto the sidewalk, but continued until he had reached the main road of their development. Sitting there, arms crossed, he watched the traffic whiz by, waiting for his Mother to come up behind him. 

Before she did, a Volvo station wagon rolled to a halt in front of him. 

He beamed at the driver, then flung himself at the passenger door, beating the handle in his delight. "Gamma, Gamma!" Within, the Pomeranian was scratching and whining at the glass.

After the engine's rumble ceased, Margaret Scully slid from behind the wheel, holding both arms out straight as she knelt on the sidewalk. "John-John. Did you miss me?" A frantic clutch of short arms around her neck was all the answer she needed. 

"Mom? Is that you?" Val had finally caught up with them. 

Margaret disentangled one arm to wrap around her daughter-in-law. "Yes, I'm back. How are all of you?" Hot Wheels, petulant grandson, and younger woman were all bundled into the station wagon for the short trip up the road. 

Charles Scully had ascended from the basement to check out the noise. "Mom?" His second son was whining from the play-pen, so he scooped him up before stepping out to the car. "Why didn't you call?" 

Margaret waited until she was standing to answer. "I need you to do a favor for Dana." 

Nodding, Charlie escorted the rest of them within.

\--o-0-o--

Lunch concluded, Margaret and Charles were washing up Power Rangers mugs and plates while Val took John and little Chuck into the front yard to play until they were sleepy. The dark-haired woman glanced in the direction of the little canine, curled up on a towel in the corner before she smiled at her younger son. "They've grown while I've been gone."

Charles set a spoon in the drainer. "I'm sure they have. When you see them every day, you don't notice until they need a new pair of shoes or something. John-John sure loved your hippo and croc stories. Glad you've had a chance to do a little traveling, after all the times we've been away." He rested both hands on the edge of the sink. "You look worried, Mom." 

Margaret twisted the green and white checked dishtowel anxiously. "I've seen some very serious things, Charles." She rubbed the ceramic tray Val had used for sandwiches until it was past dry. "I've met the woman your Father found out about. She's not at all what he feared." 

Charles sighed. "Mom, it isn't only that. The man gave away his daughter to save his job. How can Dana trust his son?" 

Margaret slid the thick platter silently onto a cabinet shelf. "Not all sons are like their fathers." 

Charlie began wiping down the kitchen table. "No, some are worse. The last time I spoke with Dana she tried to shoot me. She thought I was some kind of alien. How can he have affected her like that?" 

Margaret shook her head. "If you'd seen the documents I did, you'd think so too." She hooked the edge of the towel over the left-most of a line of Shaker pegs. "Fox Mulder is a very troubled soul, Charles, but - " 

The red-haired Navy officer slid one of the ladderback chairs out to settle into it. "Oh, do tell, Mom. He'd be the worst man for Dana imaginable, and I'm glad you've finally figured that out." 

Resting both hands on the table, Margaret leaned into her son's face. "Then why are you driving her toward him?" 

Charles crossed his arms. "What? Bill and I have warned her about him, time and time again!" 

Margaret settled into the chair to stare across the potted pachysandra at him. "It's odd, but your Father and I had exactly these same arguments about Melissa." She rested her left hand on her right. "I wanted to be firm with her, to set strict rules and guidelines. But Bill told me, 'Maggie, we raised her to know right from wrong, and with our support, she'll make the correct choices in her life.' Of course, that was before Dana and her Bureau decision." A ripple of discontent crossed her features.

Charles began fiddling with a loose straw on one of the rattan place mats. "You shouldn't have let her do it. You should have tried to talk her out of it." 

Margaret shook her head. "That's exactly what Bill tried, and look where Dana is now. Too much pressure made her run off in the wrong direction." 

Leaning over the table, Charles rested his hand on top of hers. "I'm glad you agree with Bill and me." 

Margaret shook her head. "No. I don't. Dana may have made a rash decision at the time, but someone has to stop the evils I've seen." She slid her right hand free to pat his. "Only, she doesn't have to think she needs to do it alone. She needs our support just as much as you need Val's." 

Charles drew his hand back. "What are you saying, Mom?" 

Margaret interlaced her fingers. "I'm saying that Dana's work is as important, in the overall sense, as is what you and Bill do. You're defending your country and everything it stands for when you step onto the deck of a ship, and in her own way, so is she." She held up her hand to silence the objections thundering through her son's mind. "No, I've thought about this for quite some time now, and I want you to hear me out, Charles. Dana is very much working at the limits of her strength most of the time..."

Charles pounded his fist on the table. "I know! He's driven her to that." 

"Charles!" Margaret narrowed her eyes at him. "Don't interrupt! No, the nature of her *work* has driven her to that. She needs support, both physical *and* emotional. If she's injured, she turns to her partner before she turns to her own blood. If she's worried, she talks to him, not to me. If you close off the rest of the family from her, she'll turn to the only family she has, *his*. Is that what you want?" 

The red-haired man shook his head. "She spent Christmas helping another agent pack her house, Bill said." 

Margaret nodded. "That's what she'll continue to do until she feels she can come back to us." 

Charles sighed. "So, what do you suggest, Mom? That we throw a big 'We love you, Dana' party? You want us to welcome that Jew into our family with huge grins?" 

Margaret was on her feet. "Charles! I thought you put that nonsense behind you! What does it take for you to learn!" She crossed to stand, her hands on her hips, in front of him. "If Dana chooses to make Fox Mulder her husband, which, after spending time with him, I think she has much more sense than to do, I *will* welcome that troubled soul into my home with open arms. When their marriage falls apart, which it *would* do, I'll provide my daughter with all the support I can." 

The red-haired officer was huffing in disdain.

She bent forward. "But you can prevent any of that happening by opening the rest of her family up to her again, you and Bill. All it would take is a simple face-to-face apology, and an occasional 'Hi, how are you?' phone call afterward." Crossing her arms, she began to pace. "Charles, you and Dana aren't competing for anyone's attention anymore. You're both adults. When she returns, apologize to her, spend a little time with her. That's all I ask." 

Charles rubbed his eyes with his fingers, then rose. "Mom, I'm as uncomfortable with this distance between Dana and the rest of us as you are. If you think it will work, I'll talk to Bill and we can give it a try. Will that make you happy?" 

Margaret nodded. "Yes. That's a start. There's one other thing I need from you, though." 

Charles cocked his head. "Oh?" 

Margaret sighed. "I left it out in the car. I'll be right back."

\--o-0-o--

Townhouse  
Reston, Virginia  
Sunday, April 19, 1998  
8:17 am

A loud rapping had 'Ace' rising from her computer chair to hobble to the door. After checking through the view hole, she called over her shoulder, "Drew, 'Andrew''s outside!" She threw back the deadbolts to admit their colleague. 

The red-haired McConnell glanced down at her foot as she shook it. "You've got to break yourself of the habit of sitting on your ankle when you code, 'Ace'." 

She smiled. "What brings you here so early, 'Andrew'?" 

'Charlie' stepped to his lover's side. "There isn't some emergency session of the Senate, is there?" 

McConnell rubbed his nose under the black plastic frames. "No. Nothing like that. I've been trying to reach 'Finn' for the past couple of days, but he's not answering his phones. Matheson's beginning to ask questions." 

The lovers exchanged a glance, then 'Charlie' answered. "I saw him last about three days ago. He seemed worried, but when I asked, all he said was that he had some thinking to do. You mean he hasn't been going in to work?" 

McConnell shook his head. "No. I know there are details of our *other* work we don't share with each other for security's sake, but to just disappear like this has me worried." 

'Ace' rubbed the back of her neck. "I hope he isn't still upset about how the first trial came out. The exposure we'll take care of, and we've had a meeting with the Eastern European Groups to set a couple of ideas I've had into motion." 

After grasping several Computer Shoppers by their red spines to move them to the floor, McConnell sank into the sofa cushions. "Oh? This is news." He stretched both arms along the back of the couch, forcing the couple into one of the overstuffed armchairs.

'Ace' balanced on the rounded cloth arm. "We know the shape-shifter's last destination was somewhere in Africa, and we know there are all those old Consortium warehouses scattered across the Continent." 

McConnell shrugged. "So, what makes you think they'd end up at one?" 

'Charlie' scratched at his unshaven chin. "What else is there of interest in Africa?" 

McConnell waved the question away. 

'Ace' stepped around her coffee table to settle beside the red-haired man. "I've suggested to the Eastern Europeans that they'd make good targets for NATO exercises." 

McConnell leaned forward. "What about the rare minerals and precious metals that had been stockpiled there?" 

'Charlie' shook his head. "Not a problem. The old men had moved them out of Africa long ago. They're far more useful here in present day electronics than taking up space in some dusty warehouse in the desert." 

The red-haired man settled back again. "So all the shape-shifters would find would be our stockpiles of fiberglass, mica, or all that thirty year old technology. Something tells me none of that would be very useful for an advanced civilization."

'Ace' shook her head. "Not at all. The Eastern Groups also told me that Black Lung had approached them." 

McConnell's eyes narrowed, obscuring the green irises. "We should never have let him live. Did they say what he wanted?" 

'Charlie' shrugged. "The same thing he told me. Access. Although, with knowing him, it's more than that." He rubbed his chin. "Knowing him, he has something brewing right now."

McConnell rose. "What are you thinking, 'Charlie'?" 

The heavy-set man stood, then walked over to rest on hand on 'Ace''s shoulder. "I'm afraid to say." 

She tucked herself under his arm. "Don't be. Until we can pin down where he stands, we have to figure out what he'll do next, and you've had the most contact with him." She rubbed his back. "So, what is it?"

He sighed. "I'm afraid, Lisa, we've totally lost control of everything we thought we had gained." 

The three exchanged hollow glances.

McConnell crossed his arms. "I refuse to believe that. After I locate 'Finn', we can disappear for a while. That old man won't live forever." 

The couple nodded.

\--o-0-o--

Apartment  
Silver Spring, Maryland  
Sunday, 12:49 am

Arthur Pendrell muttered angrily when he heard the knocking at his apartment door. "Wanna sleep." After a moment's concentration, he decided that he had been dreaming, then tightened his arm around Terry Phillips' bare shoulders. 

"Agent Pendrell?" The words floated in to him again. "Please? Are you in there?" 

He jerked. 

Terry lifted her cheek from his chest. "Who is that, Art? Who would be banging on your door this late at night?" 

Sighing, he disentangled himself from her, slid on his jeans and a bathrobe, then bent over to peck her nose. "Don't get up. I'll take care of it." 

She mumbled something he didn't quite catch before she clutched his pillow. 

Running his hand through his hair, Pendrell flicked on a hall light, then peered out through the spyhole. A gasp, then he was throwing back the deadbolt. "Mrs. Scully? You're back so soon?" 

Margaret Scully thrust the rewrapped kit toward him. "Yes. I kept it in a cooler with ice, just as the instructions said." 

Stepping aside, he waved her in. "Well, thank you. For blood and skin, that was more than you had to, but thank you." He waited until she had settled uneasily on his overstuffed couch to take the kit. "Let me put this in the refrigerator." 

Folding her hands, Margaret waited, nearly leaping off the cushions when another pair of feet shuffled down the hall. "Hello?" 

Having struggled into one of Pendrell's sweatpants and a shirt, Terry was pinning her long brown hair into a barrette when she entered. "Art, who was that? Hello?" 

Both women stared at Pendrell when he returned. The red-haired agent cleared his throat, then tucked the sleepy woman under his arm. "Mrs. Scully, this is a friend, Terry Phillips. She works at the Bureau, too." 

Margaret stood. "I shouldn't keep you. But, I have to know. When will those samples be ready? What is Dana looking for?" 

After Pendrell sent Phillips a sidelong glance, he stepped away from her. "Proof, Mrs. Scully. She needs to know that her family will be okay." 

Terry grasped Pendrell's hand. "I think I'll take a shower." She vanished into the darkness of the hallway without waiting for his nod. 

The red-haired agent advanced on Margaret Scully. "I need to know, too." 

Margaret nodded. "I understand. But why? Dana said you were helping her on your own time."

Pendrell stuck his hands in the pockets of his plaid robe. "I'm an agent, Mrs. Scully. I loved those old G-man movies when I was a kid, and I knew that was what I wanted to be when I grew up. That was before I discovered chemistry and decided I loved that, too. I know my marksmanship is so bad I could never be a Field Agent like Dana, but the Bureau needs technical people too, maybe even more than they realize. They've finally hired a real scientist to run the Bureau labs, and we're all so excited." A broad smile spread over his freckled face. "It's great to have all the things you want in one place." He stopped, surprised that the woman in front of him seemed to hang on every word. "These things that Dana investigates, they're horrible. If the Bureau doesn't stop them, who will?" 

Margaret covered her hand with her mouth, feeling slightly awed by what she had just heard. As her mind settled on new possibilities for her daughter, she turned to the door. "Well, I won't keep you from your friend, Agent Pendrell." 

He flushed beet red, blinking at the wall separating the living room from the bathroom for a few moments before he replied. "That's okay, Ma'am. We're both agents, so we know this isn't a nine to five type of job." He escorted her to the door. "Dana gave me your cell phone number, so I'll call you as soon as I know anything. Do you have a place to stay in town?" 

Margaret nodded. "I won't be headed back to Annapolis just yet, so I'll use Dana's apartment. I'm sure the plants could use a little water. She's very good at killing any rosemary cuttings I start for her."

Pendrell grinned. "Well, drive carefully." He stared at the closed door for a moment before heading into his bedroom to slip off his clothes. 

Tugging the sweatshirt down smooth, Terry emerged. "She's gone?" Seeing him standing in his grey boxers in front of his closet with a tweed jacket in his hand, she crossed her arms. "Art, don't tell me you're going in to work now. The testing can wait." 

He shook his head. "No, this is too important." 

Sighing, she pulled the shirt off. "Then I'm coming with you." 

After blowing her a kiss, he knelt to search out a matching pair of shoes.

\--o-0-o--

National Airport  
Monday, April 20, 1998  
8:21 am

Walter Skinner rolled his eyes at the group of men approaching him. "Agent Pendrell, would you deal with this? We can't have them coming with us." 

Raising his eyes from his latest Journal of Electrochemistry, the red-haired agent sighed. "I'm afraid if they want to come, Sir, there's very little we can do. They'll either sit with us on the plane, or show up in Nairobi on their own." 

Langly hopped over to Skinner's side to clap him on the shoulder. "Hey, Kojak, what's shaking'!" His grin faded under the older man's unyielding glare. 

Smoothing down his suit jacket, Byers moved into the bald Director's line of view. "Mister Skinner, we have information on Agent Mulder's sister we need to deliver to him in person." He bent forward. "We also have something we want to show you regarding the assassins who killed all those people at the Courthouse." 

Frohike pulled at the neon green necktie he had fastened around his polo shirt collar for the occasion. "Agent Scully would want us to be there, Sir." He patted a notebook he held. "We have the plans for certain military exercises right here." 

Riding a sudden surge of adrenaline, Pendrell found his feet. "Guys, look." He cleared his throat. "We really can take over for you." He reached for the black binder. "Honestly, we can." 

Frohike clutched the papers more tightly. "I think not, Beaker Boy. Have you been to the Arctic with us? Did you help us carry Mulder and Scully off the ice?" He shook his head. "You were safe in your nice clean lab in your shiny white jacket." The little man pranced angrily.

Langly grasped his friend's shoulder. "Chill, dude, he gave his G-lady a rock last week." 

Pendrell gaped. "How did you?" 

Langly waved the question away. "So, you guys mind flying in the big chairs?" 

"People!" Skinner's bellow turned the heads of several passengers reading around them. "We are on *official* government business." He gritted his teeth. "We do *not* fly First Class." 

Byers held up both hands. "With respect, Director Skinner, we've already taken care of the upgrade. When you see the amount of material we brought with us, you'll be relieved we've reserved the seats we did. We'll be spreading out over a table for the duration of the trip to Athens."

Pendrell looked up at the Director helplessly. "Sir, I warned you." 

Skinner closed his eyes momentarily. "Yes, Agent Pendrell, you did."

\--o-0-o--

Over the Atlantic Ocean  
Monday, 4:44 pm

Walter Skinner examined the diagram showing troop deployments carefully. Tapping a red rectangle, he queried, "These are the Neo-Nazis?" 

Frohike nodded. "That's right, big guy. The European Group operating out of Deutschland has been working insidiously among the populations. They're former Stasi, the lot of them, but they learned their propaganda skills by studying the National Socialists. If it hadn't been for that overtly clumsy attempt up at the Pittsburgh trial, we would never have had a trail to follow backwards." 

Byers rested both palms on the papers in front of him. "Within the EU, there are controls and safe-guards, so an outside covert force would be uncovered immediately." 

Skinner nodded. "Instead, go into the barracks of raw recruits, exploit their uncertainty and confusion, and it isn't necessary. The army is transformed right under their noses." 

Pendrell pushed a satellite image of the savanna into the center of their table. "But why select this site to stage exercises? The stated justification was to provide NATO troops with desert training for the next time Saddam begins shooting off his mouth. Sudan isn't like Iraq." 

Langly grinned. "That's the beauty of the scheme. Hussein has all these underground bunkers, and the facility they're planning to attack is essentially a sunken skyscraper. The rest of NATO has been told it's full of pan-Arabists, so they can bomb the living daylights out of it with a clear conscience, no matter how much the Sudan government complains." 

Skinner rubbed his chin. "But the Neos go in first under the guise of an humanitarian patrol. They put out the claim to be checking for hostages who *may* have been taken to a facility with solar-powered electricity and a water recycling plant." He narrowed his eyes at Byers. "Why do you think this is where the shape-shifters are holed up?" 

The bearded Gunman sighed. "It's the code key Mulder and Scully worked out in Bern with his Mom." He lifted a map of the US from under the piles of papers. "Look, the doll houses were bound for different cities in the US." He drew circles with a red pen on the map. "Now, these are the locations of pentagonally shaped discolorations in the savanna as obtained from the SPOT satellite." He shoved another map alongside. "Old D'Amato was encoding everything he knew about the Consortium's plans in a way that not even your old boss would guess, or so he hoped."

Pendrell blinked at the Assistant Director. "Sir?" 

Skinner took off his wire-rims to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Yes, Agent Pendrell, I once worked for the other side." He dropped the frames back in place. "But there was precious little I learned as a result." He sent the red-haired man a stiff-jawed glare. "Shall we continue?" 

Byers tapped the US map. "The dollhouse bound for Savannah had a unique room in it, a smoking parlor, believe it or not. The clue that tipped us off was this little silver trunk." 

Langly pushed his long blond hair off his face. "Silver trunk, silver cylinder. The connection becomes even more obvious when one reads that the silver trunk was noted as damaged in shipping." 

Skinner leaned back. "They want to destroy the shape-shifters before they can rebuild the older craft and depart." 

Pendrell smoothed his tie. "Sir, there's a piece of the puzzle missing." 

The Gunmen focused on him. "What?" The three chorused.

Blue eyes met Frohike's brown. "In most schemes for interstellar travel I've read about, there's a single simple quandry that must be solved. Any terrestrial vessel first must escape from a planet's atmosphere, then its gravitational pull, before it can begin its longer voyage. Now, that requires a lot of fuel being expended in a few seconds. For the interstellar parts, there needs to be far less energy expended, but it has to last for centuries or millennia, with no sure guarantee of replenishment." 

Frohike felt his hackles rise. "That's a nice idea, Agent Peabody, but the shape-shifters were preparing to leave from the Arctic in a silver cylinder like the one in the papers. It obviously isn't a problem for this advanced civilization." He stuck out his chin. 

Pendrell turned both palms up. "Hey, maybe they have solved it. But physics is physics. You can't beat it. They may have developed some advanced theory of Quantum Mechanics to exploit, but these are still two separate problems." 

Langly shook his head at his friend. "Chill, Fro, remember the rock." 

Skinner glared at Pendrell and Frohike in turn, having suddenly realized the cause of the tension he felt between the two men. Attempting to reclaim the attentions of the group, he asked, "Okay, you said you had something on the assassins?" 

Glad for the distraction, Byers tugged a folder from his briefcase. "Yes, Sir. We've compared the fingerprints lifted from the two corpses against your Bureau records - "

Skinner eyed Pendrell. "I take it I'm not supposed to ask how these three gained access to the FBI database?" 

Pendrell nodded. "Later, Sir. Whatever security leak they exploited to get through the firewall will need to be closed upon our return." He cocked an eyebrow at Frohike, who glowered. 

Byers sighed. "Anyway, as I was saying..."

\--o-0-o--

High-rise Apartment  
Crystal City  
Arlington, Virginia  
Monday, 6:41 pm

Reading over the names on the list, the old man in grey sighed. _So many deaths._ Dropping the page to the glass-topped table, he looked over at Luther, the packing boxes from his move still stacked haphazardly beside him. "These were those found to be loyal to the Four still?" 

The bald man nodded. "Yes, Sir. We passed the list off to the woman and she issued the termination orders herself. Right now, our people are killing off theirs, one by one, and it's all proceeding in perfect agreement with Organization rules." He shook his head. "I never thought - " He stopped, taking off his black- framed glasses. 

The Smoker arched a brow. "You never thought what?" 

Luther rubbed his cheek aimlessly. "I never thought a woman could be so ruthless. It isn't like it was in the old days." 

A puff. "It never was like it was in the old days." Tamping out the Morley in an granite ashtray, the old man stood, stretching. "You never knew Caroline Podhowitz; she was before your time." 

Luther's dark eyes narrowed. "I've heard stories. She was the best, wasn't she?" He stood, bouncing on his toes to stay alert. _Long day._

The old man stared out over the Potomac. "Yes, Luther, she was. The first and still the best." A dim light glowed in the Smoking Man's eyes, then was banished. "It's part of what makes her son so dangerous." 

The bald man rubbed his flabby stomach, wondering when he could get away for some dinner. "So, why not just add their names to the list? Finish the problem once and for all? Now that the alliance is back in order, the Europeans could take care of them and our hands would be clean." 

A blur of motion, then the old man was snarling in Luther's face. "That is *not* an option." 

Holding up both hands, Luther took a step to the side. "Hey, I was just asking. Sorry." 

Another Morley was lit with a match gripped by trembling fingers. "There are things you should not ask. Caroline conveyed her threat to me through you, in case you'd forgotten." 

Luther shook his head. "Yeah, right. I didn't know whether that was all talk or what." 

The Smoker's dark eyes met his. "Caroline always does what she says she will. The same was true of her first husband, and is true of her second." A puff. "Bill Mulder collected evidence against us, but he never told anyone else, outside of myself, that he had done so. It was how he was able to make me swear to protect his family. I have no wish to see the Organization exposed, do you?" 

Luther's bald head wobbled on a thickening neck. 

The old man continued. "Fox Mulder has always been prudent in his alliances. We may, one day, be able to move against them all, but not today." He sighed, exhaling blue curls. "We have unpleasant work ahead of us, Luther. Necessary, but unpleasant." The Morley waved toward the door. "That will be all."

A nod, then the younger man was out the door, glad for his dismissal.

\--o-0-o--

Nairobi Airport  
Nairobi, Kenya  
Tuesday, April 21, 1998  
12:03 am

Walter Skinner was pacing beside the luggage carrel, waiting for the twenty-seven boxes the Gunmen had shipped to appear through the doorway. "Where is that stuff! We're running out of time!" He muttered several further condemnations through gritted teeth.

Pendrell turned to Langly. "If the information Max gave us is correct, the timetable for the exercises was moved up by a week. That means we can't go in overland." 

Frohike alternated between glaring out the luggage gate and at the red-haired agent. "So, do you have a better plan?" 

Pendrell crossed his arms. "Actually, I think I do." He crossed to a wall-mounted layout of the airport, tapping a spot at the other end of the terminal on the diagram with his finger. "Let's hope somebody there speaks English well."

Skinner spun. "Agent Pendrell! Where do you think you're going?" 

The red-haired man looked back over his shoulder. "To rent us a plane, Sir." 

Skinner stalked over to him. "What? We can't afford to let some local in on where we're headed." 

Pendrell shook his head. "We won't have to, Sir. I've been flying small aircraft since I was in high school." Looking over at Langly, he gulped. "You guys packed a GPS receiver, didn't you?" 

The blond Gunmen nodded. "Yes, of course." Bouncing toward the agents, he pointed to one of the boxes coming though the weather flaps of the gate. "We've even figured out how to defeat the encoding DOD uses when they want to lock out the hi-res modes. Once we get our gear set up, we can have you updated on the weather or whatever you need, flying G-man." He grinned. "Radical. I'd like to see Mulder's face when you dip down out of the sky." 

A stray thought crossed Pendrell's mind. "I hope we'll have that chance."

\--o-0-o--

"Well, if that's all that's available, I guess so." Pendrell looked to the Assistant Director before he pulled out his travel money.

Agitated, Skinner watched him pay, but kept silent until they were on their way back to the luggage area. "Agent Pendrell, a plane that small - "

The red-haired man shrugged. "I know, Sir. A four-seater means I'll be on my own and it'll be packed on the way back. But if we don't reach the facility before the Neos do, they don't stand a chance." He looked up at the senior agent. "I've flown at night in snowstorms to my parent's home in the Adirondacks, Sir. I can do this. I *know* I can." 

Skinner shook his head. "That was never a question, Agent Pendrell. I just don't feel right letting you go in on your own." 

"I won't be. I'm sure the Gunmen have rigged up some satellite-linked communication system so we can be in contact at all times." He grinned at the three men, who were stacking boxes hurriedly. "In fact, I'd bet on it."

\--o-0-o--

Secluded Facility  
Sudanese savanna  
Tuesday, 1:27 pm

Mulder and Saunders had squared off in the hallway, the African-American rigid and straight-backed, the Agent with his hands on his hips as he paced. 

Mulder stopped in front of the bearded man. "No! Absolutely not! You're worth more to, to *everyone* here!" 

Saunders crossed his arms. "Agent Mulder, see if you can follow this line of reasoning. If you can't, ask Agent Scully. I'm sure she can. I have told you *all* I know about the inner workings of the Consortium in days past. What the Four have planned I couldn't begin to guess. If I remain with you, you will have to continue to shield me from assassination attempts. While I don't fear my own death, it will place an undue burden on you in the days ahead, especially if a certain old spy is back in power. He knows your weaknesses, Mulder, better than the Four ever did."

Stepping between the two men, Scully faced Saunders. "If you think going away with them is any solution, consider this: their home planet may take longer to reach than the rest of your lifespan. When you arrive, there may be something toxic to humans in the atmosphere or in the foodstuffs they consume." 

Saunders stepped back into the lab. "Well, what about that?" 

The shape-shifter was seeding more containers while in hummingbird form. After depositing the last sample, she morphed into a diminutive, vaguely humanoid body covered with iridescent scales. Multifaceted, bulging round eyes sat where ears would be on a human head, rotating independently of each other. The mouth stretched around half the skull, opening to breathe in supplement to a tiny pair of nostrils set just above it. A flat white tongue flapped against low square teeth, obviously meant for grinding plants, not tearing flesh. She stretched five elongated fingers toward Saunders, while ridges of spines down her arms waved slightly. 

The African-American reached out to grasp the thin palm. "If this is your true appearance, it bothers me not at all." 

The white tongue flicked. Then, leaving her hand in Saunders', the fingers shrank to the pudgy digits of 'Aurora'. "If you say so. You will find our atmosphere compatible with your respiratory demands." She smiled at Scully. "As far as your other concerns, we will place him in suspended animation once the vessel departs. Outside of Pilot, the Protectors will sleep immediately. The rest of us are needed during the acceleration to transit speed. While your friend is sleeping we will correct the genetic mutation that induces his seizures, and which was introduced virally late in his life. We will also modify his neural pathways to facilitate communications with our kind once we arrive." 

Knox stepped forward, her right index finger pointed at the shape-shifter. "But you have said you mean to return to squash us as if you were gods!" She waved both arms. "Unless, of course, we turn to finding this idyllic harmony with nature you find so desirable." 

'Aurora' sighed. "The havoc your species has wrecked is no longer a matter for philosophers. You must begin corrective measures now, while it is simple. In one hundred of your planet's cycles, it shall be too late. We have been to many worlds where we have seen the same patterns over and over." 'Aurora' slid her hand out of Saunders's fingers. "We do not threaten, we warn and advise. In the process of developing the technology that will cleanse your planet, you *will* discover effective modes of interstellar transport. This we have also seen in our explorations, differently on each world, but the end will be the same." 

Knox crossed her arms. "Spare me the sanctimony! You mean to claim Earth for yourselves!"

Shaking her head, 'Aurora' adopted the patient look of a teacher with a less-than quick-witted student. "That is not our way. We mean only that life not be extinguished on this world through simian meddling. There are, however, still those at home who see all lesser-evolved species as capable only of destruction. So we wish to bring back an advocate, one who can persuade the majority that such is not the case." She turned to Saunders. "I will warn you: our legal and political systems are extremely arcane." 

The bearded African-American favored 'Aurora' with the first genuine smile Mulder and Scully had ever seen him wear. "I'm an attorney. I *live* for arcane." 

Mulder pulled him aside. "If you're certain about this."

Saunders nodded. "More certain than I have been of anything in my life. I took an oath to protect this planet from outside invasion, Mister Mulder. Let's just say I'm keeping it in ways the old men never expected."

Knox grasped Saunders' arm. "Then I'm going with you." 

'Aurora' chuckled, deep and throaty. "Every advocate needs an assistant." 

Knox sneered over at the dark-haired agent. "I might as well. There's nothing here on earth for me anymore." She pointed at Mulder. "That is most certainly the genetic offspring of the man I respected many years ago, but he is not Bill Mulder's son." 

Doubling over, Mulder took a step backwards. 

Scully blocked the older woman's view of her partner. "That's enough, Miss Knox." 

She took a deep breath, but Mulder reached up to grasp her shoulder. "It's okay, Scully." He looked to 'Aurora'. "How soon do you plan to leave?" 

"As soon as we have installed the last of the tectosilicate skins." She waved over her shoulder. "These are backups in case of last minute failures. It took a little experimentation to learn to grow them dense enough to serve as a radiation-proof cover for the vessel. We designed these ships to be repaired with what minerals we could expect to find on any rocky planet or asteroid, so the cache of raw materials your Organization built up was more than suitable. Fortunately, the propulsion system was damaged by neither the collision nor the transport." She began morphing into hummingbird form again.

\--o-0-o--

US Embassy  
Nairobi, Kenya  
Tuesday, 9:37 pm

Skinner leaned over Byers's shoulder to point to a dot on the screen. "Is that he?" 

The bearded Gunmen nodded. "Yes, Director Skinner, it is." He tapped the other edge of the glass with the eraser of his pencil. "There's the facility. At this speed, Pendrell should be there in four hours." 

Skinner rubbed his chin. "I hope that's enough time." 

Tapping a few keys at his machine, Langly brought up a weather map. "So far, looks clear. We’re well-away from the rainy season, so we should have calm conditions."

\--o-0-o--

Secluded Facility  
Sudanese savanna  
Tuesday, 10:23 pm

'Aurora' bustled back into the lab where the four had been waiting. "All is prepared." She stood in front of Saunders. "Have you made your farewells?" 

The bearded man rose. "Yes, I have." He turned to the Agents one final time, exchanging handshakes with them both. "Take care, Agent Mulder. Remember what I told you about the Smoker." 

Mulder nodded. "Best of luck." 

Scully stepped away. "That means we hope to never see you again." 

Something like delight danced behind his dark eyes. "Indeed. But I'll try to arrange to send some patterned radio signal back toward earth." 

Acting on impulse, Mulder threw his arms around Saunders. "Someone *will* be listening." He patted his back twice before releasing him. 

Her head held high, Knox preceded them without a word. The three followed Knox and 'Aurora,' stopping in the entrance they had opened a few days earlier. 

Mulder glanced around confusedly. "Where's the cylinder? The floor's closed up again." 

'Aurora''s eyes had begun to whirl, but fixed in their human form. "Stowed for lift-off. You will need to leave the facility in a few minutes, but I must set your mind at rest on one point. We do not kill those whose form we adopt, and I did not kill your friend Aurora Luminens. I met her at a UFO convention in Seattle while in a male body. She approached me, looking for that intimacy you simians so enjoy, but, there were limits, as you know. She told me many interesting stories, which is how I could assume her shape once she passed away." 

Mulder was still staring around the space. "But, where?" 

As if in answer, the floor began rumbling again. They watched while the hydraulic doors rolled open, then an arrow-shaped probe emerged above the floor. The probe was fastened to the tip of a translucent cone, which rose in front of them. The base of the cone ceased to widen, then a cylinder grew up after it. The upward motion stopped as an opening was pushed through the side. 

Scully tried to peer into the depths below. "You've constructed a rocket."

Engineer appeared in the doorway. "Of course we did. We have been months attempting to rebuild this ancient technological solution. The newer vessels have an alternate klack-tzz drive to permit escape from the surface, but we had neither the time nor the materials to implement that solution here. How is it you can not already have a network of operative space stations to launch deep space probes from?" He waved his hand. "I forget, your petty political conflicts dictate your science objectives. Come, come, all is prepared. The sleeping chambers for the simians are fully functional." 

Scully looked to 'Aurora'. "If you launch from here, what about the DNA traces?" 

She stopped in mid-morph, returning to the voluminous shape Scully recognized to answer. "We're taking them with us. How else can we keep a record of your species' variability if you annihilate yourselves prior to our return? We cannot replenish your numbers at a sustainable level if you are extinct." She pointed to Scully's backpack. "You have the ones of interest to you." 

Mulder tugged her by the arm. "Come'on, Scully, we have to use the escape elevators. We'll never make it to the surface in time if we don't." The pair headed for one of the green sets of doors.

\--o-0-o--

Sudanese savanna  
Tuesday, 11:47 pm

Two sand-scarred doors ground open, revealing two bodies within. The tall man was supine, while the auburn-haired pathologist was sprawled on her side, propped up by the backpack. Each began to awaken slowly. 

Mulder rubbed the stubble on his face. "Scully?" He turned his head cautiously, watching his partner struggle to lift her arms. "Hey." He reached out to pat her shoulder. "We made it. The high speed setting didn't kill us." 

She focused one green-blue eye on his smirk. "Remind me not to take any more joyrides with you, Mulder." 

His head rocked back and forth on the mesh floor. "Too late. I tried back in March of '92." 

They staggered from the car just as the facility began to rumble again. The vibrations sent them sprawling, Mulder as much on top of his partner's back as the pack would allow. 

She called over her shoulder, "If they're launching, it's been fun!" 

He shouted by her ear. "No, they'll be lifting off from the surface! We have to get as far away as we can!" The agents helped each other upright, then began running, flat out. 

Behind them, the probe rose, followed by the cone, followed by the rest of the cylinder, growing wider at each joint. Finally, the rocket towered over the surrounding scrub and brown grasses, its translucent length reflecting moonlight along one hundred meters. 

The partners had no time to enjoy the view, scrambling as they were to place as much distance as they could between themselves and the launch vehicle. When the bottom stage of the rocket ignited for real, the deafening rumble sent an extra burst of adrenaline coursing through them. 

Mulder pulled his partner down behind a low dune. "This is it, we can't get any further away." 

Nodding, she slipped off the backpack, digging a depression in the sand so she could lie on top of it. "This gets back or else." 

He grinned. "Now I *know* who the real scientist is, Scully." Sobering, he began digging a trench for his long form. "This may be the only way we survive." The agents raised their heads above the level of the dune. In front of them, the burn continued, shooting flames out all round. 

Scully dug faster. "When you're ready, I'll bury you, Mulder," she shouted over the rumbles. 

He glared. "No way, Scully! I'll cover your legs, you cover mine! We'll protect our own heads as much as possible! Hurry!" He passed her a patterned red handkerchief to tie over her nose and mouth, then fastened a blue one of his own in place. Nearly concealed in the sand, each pushed their faces into the cool grains, then waited. 

The tremendous rush of air and heat threw more particles over the slight rise, further burying the partners. Then, slowly, the great needle left the ground, seeming to hover momentarily on a cushion of orange and white, before crawling into the sky. As it rose, the illumination moved across the savanna like a massive spotlight. 

Once the winds ceased, the agents pushed up out of the sand, watching until the rocket disappeared over the horizon, the dunes fading from tan to black in its absence. Mulder draped an arm over his partner's shoulders. "Once that last Saturn Five was launched from the cape, I never thought I'd see a lift-off like that again, Scully." 

She nodded. "Same here." Wincing, she shook off the grains and lifted the backpack. "I suppose the Land Rover is burning nicely somewhere around here." 

He stood, then pointed to a small light over the dunes. "Yup." 

Sighing, she glanced around them. "Okay, which way to Algiers?" She stepped over the edge of the dune, then rolled back into the depressions their bodies had made. "I don't think we buried ourselves deeply enough, this feels like a good sunburn after a day on the beach."

After frowning down through the faint illumination of moonlight, Mulder cocked his head. "Scully, you okay?" 

She was gazing up at the stars. "Just trying to find Polaris so we can set a course back home."

A nod, then his eyes were sweeping the northern horizon. "There. It’s almost set." 

Scully climbed to her feet. "Let's go." 

But Mulder had grasped her shoulder. "I hear something."

She fell silent. "Yes. I hear that, too. It sounds like an engine." 

The dark-haired agent grunted, "An airplane. Small." 

Scully shook her head. "It couldn't be." 

They watched the single headlight grow from a pinprick on the horizon to a full halogen beam. The plane circled once, then set down to land in a dry gully behind them. 

Slinging her backpack over her left shoulder, Scully began tracking out wide sweeps with both arms as she ran toward the cockpit. 

A familiar red head emerged through the window. "Hey! Told you I'd take you out flying one day!" 

His weapon half out of its holster, Mulder stared at the pilot. "Pendrell? Is that you?" 

Slipping back into his helmet, he grinned. "Who else? Where are the others? And where did that mondo rocket come from?" 

Scully was tugging the passenger door open. "We'll be the only ones returning with you, Pendrell." 

The partners dropped into two of the seats, strapping themselves in for take-off. Scully clutched the backpack between her knees, then set it on the floor to grip both armrests. "Hope this isn't as bad as my flight from DC to Athens." 

Pendrell glanced at her, but asked nothing further, only offering, "I'll see what I can do, Dana."

Mulder winced from the seat behind her as he slid his long legs out in front of him. "Yeah, let's see what you can do, Pendrell." 

After an irritated roll of his eyes toward the man behind him, the pilot waited to query them until they were at altitude. "Okay, Dana, fill me in. What happened to the two who were with you?" 

Mulder leaned over between their heads. "If I told you the shape-shifters were returning to their planet, using that rocket to break free of earth's gravity, and that Saunders and Knox were with them, how much of that would you believe?" 

Blue eyes met hazel. "All of it."

\--o-0-o--

Scully Residence  
Charleston, South Carolina  
Tuesday, 5:16 pm

Bill Scully was spreading out grass seed when the Volvo station wagon pulled up. "Mom!" Abandoning the wheeled green bucket under a pine tree, he trotted over to the driver's side door. 

Margaret stepped out into his open arms. "Bill. I'm so glad to see you. I've missed you and the boys." 

They patted each other's backs, then Bill tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow. "Charlie called me, Mom. Do you need a sample from me, too?" 

Margaret shook her head. "No, but did he tell you anything else?" 

Bill sighed. "He told me everything." Holding the front door until she stepped through ahead of him, he checked over his shoulder as a Subaru rolled past the house. "Since Elizabeth took the boys to the playground for the afternoon, we can talk in private." 

Margaret nodded. "You haven't forgotten how sick that fertilizer made Dana when she was three." 

Bill led her into the den. "You've never let me forget." 

Mother and son settled into opposite ends of a battered sofa, the wooden sides showing marks of truck wheels and tooth impressions. 

Margaret shifted to look her eldest living child in the face. "Bill, you know why I'm here." 

The red-haired man nodded. "Yes. I don't know what to say. Charlie told me you'd come to your senses about the partner, but as for just taking Dana back, well, I'm not sure how Dad would have reacted in a similar situation." He bit his lower lip as he plucked at his jeans. 

Margaret leaned toward him. "But you do know, Bill. We've been through this before." 

His blue eyes met her brown ones. "With Mel, or with Dana?" He shook his head. "Sisters. It would almost be easier to deal with Mel showing up eight months pregnant that with the way Dana assumes she's better than the rest of us." 

Margaret was on her feet. "Bill! Is that what you think? That this is a game between you two?" 

He shrugged. "Hasn't she always done stuff like this just to prove she's more deserving of love and attention?" He snorted. "The sports, the valedictorian, the science degree, the medical school. If she'd gotten that PhD there'd have been no living with her. Little Miss Know It All." He crossed his arms. 

Margaret was fuming. "William Danvers Scully! I can't believe what I'm hearing from you. Her work is important, not just to her, but for all of us." 

Bill stood. "Yeah, Mom, you just go on believing that, okay?" 

Margaret clenched her fists. "I will! So, are you going to throw me out of the family, too?" 

The blue eyes widened for a moment. "Mom! No! You don't understand! Dana needs to do what's best for her and for her family. It would be better for her and for us if she wasn't in the Bureau. Dad knew that and tried to tell her. Instead, she runs off and joins up with this *Mulder* guy. His father was a spy who fooled around on his wife and hated his kids. What kind of a man does that make his son?" 

Margaret crossed her arms. "A decent, hard-working, but very troubled soul." 

Bill glared over at her. "So? Dana doesn't need a loser like that. Does she?" 

The dark-haired woman shook her head. "He isn't a loser. He's very dedicated to what he does. Many of the famous men we've been taught to revere have had very similar backgrounds."

A shadowed jaw jutted. "And they were all misanthropic loners, too. Dana deserves better, than being hooked like some groupie to Mister UFO Wizard. As head of the family - What?" 

Margaret had covered her mouth with her hand. "Bill! When did you? How did you?" 

He shook his head. "Mom, Dad's gone. Someone has to look out for the rest of us. Someone has to take charge. You always told us that he was the leader, the Captain, that you were only taking care of us the way he would have wanted had he been home. Having commanded myself, I've learned exactly what that means. You have to be able to give unpopular orders if that's what's best for everyone you're responsible for."

Margaret's protest dropped to a whisper. "But this isn't a flotilla of destroyers. We're a family. That's what's important." 

He sighed. "No, we're *all* in the Navy. I take orders from my superiors, I give orders to my men. That's how it is." He sat again. 

Margaret perched on a cushion in the matching chair across from him, ignoring the toy soldier pressing into her thigh. _Maybe this will convince him._ "Okay, so we're *all* following some chain of command. Your Father often let me read his military history texts." 

The blue eyes softened. "Yeah, he loved to tell the stories of how we defeated the Nazis and the Japanese. The good war, he called it."

Sensing an opening, Margaret leapt into it. "He told me that German units would oftentimes be overrun without firing a single shot. When asked why they wouldn't respond to a direct assault, they would respond, 'We had no orders to fire.' The greatest strength of the US military was that individual units in the field would, if out of communication with headquarters, size up a developing situation and take charge themselves." 

He rubbed his chin. "Are you trying to say that Dana is off working on her own like that, without communication, doing what she thinks is right in response to the unexpected?" He shook his head. "No, I don't see it that way. Dad never found any evidence that what Mulder's looking for even exists. I think it's all some fantasy he's concocted for himself." 

Margaret shifted over beside him. "But Dana *has* found that evidence. Working together, they *do* know to lay those early ideas Fox had aside, and look beyond them to the truth. If Fox were still telling me stories of little grey men, I'd agree with you. But they have so much more now: DNA traces like nothing on earth, videotapes and UV signatures, those papers of hers, the document Charlie's ensign found, implants, retroviral genomes with primate DNA. It's all real." She patted his knee. "She's convinced Mel had some unique chromosomal pattern that you and Charlie don't, so you're safe." A sudden sense of relief brought tears to her eyes. "You'll all be secure, and she's showing it to you in her own way. She's using her skills to protect this family, Bill. Isn't that enough?" 

His mouth had formed into a round expression of surprise, then he nodded. "I didn't know. She never said." 

Brown eyes met blue. "You never gave her the chance." 

He grasped her hand. "Something else I've learned as an officer, sometimes you have to make a public gesture to get others to follow. What do we do so Dana knows we want her back?" 

She smiled quickly. "She wouldn't want that. You know how private she is. Just meet with her and apologize, then keep in touch. That's all." 

He nodded. "Okay, Mom, that's what we'll do."

\--o-0-o--

Sudanese savanna  
Wednesday, April 22, 1998  
2:47 am

Static crackled from a silver box duct-taped on the cockpit floor. 

Pendrell pointed to the microphone resting in a tray screwed onto the side. "Will either of you get that? I think the people on the other end will be pleasantly surprised to hear your voices." 

Mulder reached toward the chassis. "How do I activate this to send?"

Scully pushed a red button poking up through a rough square hole cut into the top. "It's a Langly special, Mulder. Try it now."

Mulder's eyebrows drew together before he began speaking. "Hello? Anybody receiving?" 

"Agent Mulder!" Although his words were being relayed through a tiny speaker, Skinner's voice lost none of its intensity. "What is your condition?" 

Mulder grinned at his partner. "We're okay, Sir. Rocket-burned more than anything else." 

"What?" Static interrupted him. "How many are with you? Are there any serious injuries?" 

"Negative, Sir!" Mulder was shouting back now. "It's only Agent Scully and myself. The others left on the rocket you may have seen." 

"Mulder! If you're involved in launching that Roman candle somehow, guess what, you made CNN again." The voice was Frohike's. "We have a set tuned in here in the Bureau office. An EOS caught the entire launch with its night-band imager, so your location in the desert is plastered all over it. Agent Scully okay?" 

She leaned back to grasp the mike. "I'm fine, Frohike." 

A chuckle came through the speakers. "We'll have the medivac helicopter standing by, Dana."

Pendrell silently mimicked, 'Dana,' at the auburn-haired agent, who rolled her eyes, then mouthed, 'Never mind,' in response. Nodding, the pilot turned back to his instruments.

Byers' words reached them next. "It also picked up the masses of NATO forces headed your way, so that little secret is out, too." 

Scully questioned the red-haired agent out loud, "NATO forces?" 

He shook his head. 

Mulder had shouted the same question into the mike. 

It was the bearded Gunman who responded. "There's a group of Neo-Nazis in the German contingent with assassination orders. Pendrell went in to pull you out before they reached your location." A long burst of static terminated their communication. 

Scully tapped the box. "We're being jammed." 

The red-haired agent nodded. "I expected that. We'll be passing over some of the troop locations shortly. I've steered us clear of where we knew the Neos were deployed, but after seeing that rocket pass overhead, the whole bunch will be a little trigger-happy." 

Mulder clutched the mike. "They'll be shooting at us?" 

In answer, there were booms from the darkness below them.

Blue eyes met hazel. "Strap yourselves in tight. I'll have to do a little fancy flying to keep us clear."

\--o-0-o--

Pendrell banked the light plane into another barrel roll. "Hope you guys haven't eaten recently."

White-faced, Scully glanced at him from her seat. "Trust me, that hasn't been a problem." 

The plane shuddered as more artillery whizzed up through the air. 

Mulder swore softly before he hazarded a glance out the window. "We're all allies! Why us?" 

Scully called back. "Ahab explained it to me once: you have to be careful when motivating the men at your command. Get troops too fired up for exercises like this and they'll shoot at anything. If any of them were in Desert Storm, they probably have visions of revisiting - " 

The plane jerked upwards. 

Pendrell's right fingers gripped the throttle. "That's it, we've been hit. I'm jettisoning the fuel." He slapped a button. "I'll try to set us down level on our reserves." 

Mulder glanced around the cockpit. "What, no parachutes?" 

The technician snorted. "I wish, Agent Mulder. I was lucky to be able to rent a plane this large in the Third World." 

Scully studied his tight face for a moment. "When we three get back, I'm giving the guys hell for not remembering to pack some." 

Pendrell flicked his eyes toward her gratefully. "Deal." He bit his lower lip as he concentrated on the gauges and controls, then called out more instructions. "The speed's dropping smoothly and the landing gear is out. This shouldn't be too rough, but be prepared to get as far away from the plane as you can." 

"Wonder why," Mulder commented dryly. 

Scully found her eyes gravitating toward the altimeter, watching the numbers roll downwards. 

Pendrell had positioned their track parallel to the dune fronts, so once the sand was over their line of sight, he called, "Be ready!" 

His passengers covered their heads. The wheels touched down briefly, then tossed them back into the air, forcing the red-haired agent to tap the controls. After a second bounce, the plane flipped over, landing on the wings. 

The three were unbuckling, rolling loose of their harnesses, all the while shouting for each other. Scully called out that she had the backpack, then pushed her door open. Mulder was muttering about free government flights as he bumped against Pendrell's shoulder in the darkness. 

The red-haired agent chuckled. "Ah, the mountains are worse." 

The three climbed out of the plane to run along the bottom of the dune. Through the darkness, they heard other motors starting up in their wake, but not the expected explosion of their light craft. 

Mulder cocked an ear behind them. "They're calling us by name, Scully."

Scully glanced over her shoulder. "That's not good. I can't see who they are through all the headlights." 

Despite their best efforts, the desert-prepared vehicles overtook them in a few minutes. 

Mulder fumbled for his gun, snorting when he realized it had fallen out back in the plane. The truck that had careened in front of them blocked their escape. 

Pendrell pulled off his helmet to pitch it at the windshield, only to see it bounce off the roof of the cab. Three soldiers were shouting within. 

Scully grabbed her partner's arm. "That isn't German! These aren't the Neos!" 

Mulder grinned down at her. "No, that's Greek, Scully." He grabbed the blue and white flag off the front of the hood. "These are the Hellenes. Your Minister must have come through for us." 

Pendrell stared. "What?" 

Unarmed, one of the soldiers stepped up to them. "Agent Mulder? Agent Scully?" 

The partners nodded. 

The corners of the thick black mustache turned upwards. "We were given orders to try to find you first and bring you back to the American Embassy in Nairobi." 

Pendrell sighed. "Will *someone* please tell me what's going on here?"

\--o-0-o--

American Embassy  
Nairobi, Kenya  
Friday, April 24, 1998  
10:18 am

The three agents disentangled themselves from the boisterous soldiers in the back of the truck, offering hasty farewells. Mulder waved back somewhat distractedly at repeated shouts of, 'Santorini, Santorini!' 

Scully stretched up to comment to him, "You're calling Max and your Mom to give them fair warning, aren't you?" 

He snorted. "I think it would be wise." 

Hearing Skinner call for him, Pendrell had hurried in ahead of them. 

Now, as the partners made their way to the room their supervisor had commandeered, the red-haired agent ran back out. "Agent Scully!" He was flapping a printout. "Terry sent Skinner the DNA analysis!" 

She froze. 

Pendrell trotted back to her, beaming. "Both your brothers didn't inherit that gene from your Mother." 

At the news, she grabbed her partner's elbow momentarily. The contact spun him around to hover over her, while she bit her lip to suppress her tears of relief. 

He raised his hand to press it into her back. "I'm glad for you, Scully. They'll all really be safe." 

Byers had emerged from the room, Frohike on his heels. "Mulder, we have a photo we'd like you to identify for us." 

It was the tall agent who now went rigid. 

Resting her hand on his spine, Scully looked up at his eyes. "They've found her." When he bit his lower lip, she slipped her arm around his waist. "Go on, Mulder. This is real, not a clone, not a lie." She pushed on his back, forcing him to step forward. 

Once in the room, Mulder sank into the chair Skinner had pointed to. "Where?" was all he managed to croak out. 

Byers looked to Scully. "In San Diego." 

She gripped her partner's shoulder tightly. "How?" 

Byers laid out several pages of copied records. "We've finally received the last of the materials you requested through the Bureau before you left, Agent Scully. These documents are for those four girls from the adoption agency in Colorado, the possible Sarah Silverberg candidates. Three were put through a string of foster homes and were lost. But one of them was adopted by a family who took her home to, get this-" He pointed to an address. "-Newport, Rhode Island." 

Scully had to strain to hear her partner's whisper. "So close. All those years she was so close." He shivered when she rubbed his spine again. 

Byers nodded. "But she chose to attend the University of California at Stanford through her doctorate, and when this second set of adoptive parents was lost in a car wreck, she changed her name." He pushed forward a sheet with 'City of San Diego Hall of Records' in large letters across the top. He continued slowly. "She chose the name 'Sandra Ann Miller' for herself." 

Mulder was trembling visibly now. "She kept the same initials." He spun to look up at his partner. "That happens with amnesia cases, right?" The glint in his hazel eyes had never been more desperate.

She nodded.

He leaned forward slightly. "Do you have a picture?" 

Byers slid a large-print photo out of its envelope. "We downloaded her driver's license and blew it up." The stiff paper was placed squarely before the dark-haired agent. "Is it her, Mulder?" 

When he glimpsed the face, Mulder clenched his fists, stifling all sounds but a throaty gasp. 

Scully bent over his shoulder. "It doesn't look like the shape-shifter." 

He shook his head. "No. It's the woman I saw under the oak." He lifted the print from the table. "It's her. I know it's her." He looked up to the bearded Gunman. "Where is she now? What is she doing?" He forced himself to focus on tangible facts and figures, pushing his emotions aside. 

Byers sighed. "She's still in the city, working as a Professor of Fluid Dynamics at the local university." He tapped one of the pages. "You can call her when you get back to the States." 

Mulder checked the faces of the people in the room with him. "Thank you, all of you. Now I really need to call Mom." 

When he made no move to rise and reach for the phone, Walter Skinner stepped forward. "Agent Mulder, there are international repercussions to what has transpired here that I need to discuss with Senator Matheson." 

His eyes never leaving the image of his sister's face, Mulder nodded. 

Scully stepped around the table to speak with them. "We thank you, Sir, and you, Arthur." 

The blue eyes met hers. "You're welcome, Dana. I'll expect you both at the wedding." He glanced over at Mulder, who gave no indication of having heard his invitation. 

Scully touched his arm. "We'll be there." One cheek dimpled. 

Pendrell flushed a deep red, then pointed to her hunched shoulders, "Only this time, wear something that'll take the heat." 

Skinner frowned downwards, but followed Pendrell out the door. 

The Gunmen had clustered around Mulder, Frohike watching the auburn-haired pathologist intently. "Agent Scully?" 

She turned back to the four. "Yes?" 

"What does he mean?" 

She waved the question away. "We were too close to the launch site and were forced to bury ourselves in the sand." 

Mulder roused from his fugue to shift on his chair. "Yeah, there was a reason NASA sent the Apollos up from so far away." 

When Scully locked eyes with Byers, he nodded, then turned to Langly. "I think we need to check the latest on CNN, don't you?" 

After a glance toward their seated friend, the long-haired Gunman tugged on Frohike's arm. "Sounds like a plan." 

Once the room was empty, Scully rested a hand on her partner's shoulder. "Would you like to be alone, Mulder?" 

"No." Dropping the photo on the table, he rose, then opened his arms to her. "I don't want to be alone anymore." Once she had settled against him, he enfolded her tightly. "Thank you. Thank you for believing in me. In this." As he rested his cheek on her auburn crown, he bit his lip. 

Her head moved up and down against his chest. "I can only say the same. And thanks for your support when I needed it. It isn't over yet, you know." 

A sniffle, then a whisper. "I know. All these expanded horizons with Matheson and the Consortium are too much to think about right now. I need to savor this for a while before I run off to the West Coast." 

They rocked in silence for a moment. 

"Mulder?" 

"Hum?" 

"Does your back itch as much as mine does?" 

His gurgling chuckle was punctuated by several more sniffles. "More. You were right when you told them the sand didn't bury us deep enough." He released her. 

They stepped toward the open room where the rest of the agents and Gunmen had gathered, only to find Langly arguing heatedly with a woman agent, assigned just recently to the foreign office.

Mulder bent over his partner's shoulder. "He really enjoys the cloak and dagger stuff. Agent Langly. Think about it." 

She stuck her tongue out slightly before she replied, "I'd rather not."

\--o-0-o--

Dark Apartment  
Washington, DC  
Saturday, April 25, 1998  
9:21 pm

The old man grimaced as he peered out through the spy hole. _It's about time._ Unlocking it, he called out a greeting. "I had wondered when I would see you two again. All is well, I trust?" 

'Ace' marched in determinedly. "You know the shape-shifters were on that rocket, don't you?" 

He fingered the pack in his pocket. "Do you know how many of them there were?" 

'Charlie' pressed his arm against his lover's back. "Why, five, of course." 

The man with the Morleys shook his head. "Seven." 

'Ace' glanced at 'Charlie'. "Seven? What do you mean, seven?" 

A snick of a lighter. "I just finished speaking with my counterpart in Germany. Two of their operatives have awakened after long, restful naps." He waited for the meaning to sink in. When both of their faces had colored, he continued. "This has very serious implications for us all. We have had visitations by this species about every fifty years. So, unless we have developed significant countermeasures, by the time your children are ready to retire, they may have unexpected guests." 

'Ace' nodded. "Then we have much work to do."

'Charlie' stepped forward. "How do you wish for us to assist in your plans?" 

The old man dropped a hand to his shoulder, surprised when the corpulent flesh beneath his fingers remained rock-steady. _I always knew you would be good in a real crisis._ "We must begin at the top, my young friends. But even before that, I need to meet with all four of you. You have no word on 'Finn'?" 

The brunette programmer shook her head. "We'll go check with 'Andrew'. Perhaps he has seen him."

The old spy led them to the door. "Then I shall join you as soon as I have gathered the others. Good evening."

\--o-0-o--

Skinner Residence  
Falls Church, Virginia  
Sunday, April 26, 1998  
6:57 pm

Sharon Skinner paused in her planting as the taxi rolled to a stop in front of the house. "He's back so soon?" 

Cynthia placed the flat of marigolds in a shady spot before she joined her. "I hope that's a good thing." 

Walter Skinner emerged from the back, waited to pay the cab driver until he handed him his duffel bag, then turned as the two women stepped up to him. "I'm back." He smiled broadly. "Mulder and Scully are safe; Saunders isn't a problem anymore." 

Sharon tugged off her gardening gloves to hug him. "That's good to hear, Walter." Backing away, she smiled at the dirt on his white dress shirt. "You'll have to run that by the cleaners. Sorry." 

His eyes held hers for a moment. "It's no problem." 

Cynthia frowned. "What about Agent Pendrell?"

Skinner looked down at her. "Oh, he should be home by now. He was just as reliable as I thought he would be." He leaned over to whisper, "I see she's roped you into the gardening duties." 

Cynthia smiled. "Oh, coming from a farm, this is nothing." Feeling uncharacteristically ebullient, she took the former Marine by the arm. "I've convinced Mrs. Skinner she needs to plant some herbs up in that rocky patch she was complaining about..."

\--o-0-o--

The Assistant Director emerged from the basement, closing the door against the sound of the washing machine spinning. "Sharon?" He peered into the kitchen.

"Director Skinner?" Having changed as well, Cynthia was standing behind him in the hallway, pulling on her ponytail nervously. "Now that you're home..." 

He leaned against the door frame. "Yes?" He hoped he had found his gentlest of tones to encourage her to continue. 

She bit her lip, then sighed. "I'd like to retrieve a few more things from my apartment, if it would be okay. I shouldn't be imposing on Mrs. Skinner the way I have been while you've been gone." 

Sharon Skinner stepped in from the living room. "Cynthia, don't be silly. It's been nice to have someone here." 

The bald Director turned to his wife. "Have there been any problems while I was away?" 

She shook her head. 

Skinner looked down at the brunette. "Then I don't see why not. Would you like Sharon to come with us?" 

Cynthia glanced down at her running shoes. "It isn't much, but I miss not having my family's photos with me." She shrugged. "That's all. I didn't expect to be away this long." She flashed a nervous smile. 

Skinner nodded. "We'll take the convertible?" He looked to his wife for confirmation. 

She reached in her pocket for the keys. "Sure. You may need to put some gas in it, though." 

The Director kissed his wife's nose, then turned to head toward the door.

\--o-0-o--

Darkened Apartment  
Fairfax, Virginia  
Sunday, 8:42 pm

Cynthia stepped up to her mailbox. "It's empty. That's odd." 

Skinner held the door for her. "Didn't you call your landlord to hold it for you?" 

She nodded. "But he's usually gone from Friday through Monday. That's three mail days." She held out her keys, flipping over the three with yellow plastic rings until she grasped an unadorned one. "Right, here." 

Inside, a lone, unshaven figure snapped to attention when he heard the voices. _Now she finally comes back._ He was beginning to pull his angular frame off the carpet when he spied the broad-shouldered form of the Assistant Director. "Who are you?" His Glock aimed, he stalked toward the light and the entrance. 

Walter Skinner's SIG answered for him, forcing the blond man to dive behind the sofa. "Put your weapon down and raise your hands, now!" 

Cynthia flicked on the lights, pointing to a black pair of shoes just visible from her lower vantage point. 

Skinner sent a shot into the wall just above the imported leather soles. "Get out of here, Cynthia, now! Call for backup on my cell phone!" 

The slight woman broke into a flat run. 

Skinner resumed his sideways sweep of the room. "FBI! I said, slide your weapon out here where I can see it and come out with your hands up, Lindhauer! Don't make me shoot you!" 

The Glock left a long scratch in the oak as it slid. Then, two sets of long pale fingers appeared over the cushions, followed by a faded blond thatch over cold blue eyes. "Exactly what do you think you'll accomplish by arresting me, Assistant Director Skinner? I'll be back out on the street within an hour." 

Skinner bent to retrieve the weapon. "That's not important. You'll have been exposed and useless to them, or didn't you think about that before you decided to dive off the deep end? I don't expect you'll live out the day." Skinner cocked his head. "Now, move." 

Cynthia reappeared in the doorway, distracting Lindhauer, but not the former Marine. "The Fairfax officers are here, Sir." Two uniformed police shoved her aside, weapons aimed at the tall blond man. 

Skinner lifted his ID where they could read it. "I'm Assistant Director Walter Skinner of the Federal Bureau of Investigations, and I want this man arrested for breaking and entering." At Lindhauer's snort, he glowered. "That's just for starters. Wait until I call Senator Matheson. He'll be delighted he can now remove you from his staff." 

As the tall man passed Cynthia, he called out, "Why?" then was jerked away by the officers. 

The brunette was shaking, both hands over her mouth to stop from crying out. 

Skinner dropped an arm around her shoulders. "It's okay. He'll go away for a very long time. We have the evidence." He patted her back. "Collect your photos and let's head back to my place, hum?" 

After a single nod, she stepped forward.

\--o-0-o--

Alexandria Correctional Facility  
Alexandria, Virginia  
Sunday, 11:37 pm

McConnell waited while Lindhauer refilled his pockets with his wallet, keys, and other assorted personal items. "'Finn', we've been looking everywhere for you. Matheson's been making a huge amount of noise about this. He's thinking of letting you go, you know." 

Lindhauer sent McConnell a steely blue stare, but said nothing. 

While they walked out of the jail, the red-haired man rubbed his nose under the black-framed glasses, then continued, "We were afraid the loyalists had killed you, not that you were hiding in a woman's apartment, waiting for her to return." 

His hand on the passenger door of McConnell's BMW, Lindhauer shook his head. "Afraid, or hopeful that you could finally unseat me?" 

While unlocking the door, McConnell's jaw dropped and he stared upwards at the blond man. "What? Has Black Lung been brainwashing you or something? We're all on your side here! We'd rather have you in charge than him, or anyone else, for that matter." He held the door. "Hey, now I'm taking you to my place to wash up and get some rest. You'll feel better in the morning when you've had a good night's sleep."

\--o-0-o--

Apartment  
Arlington, Virginia  
Monday, April 27, 1998  
12:21 am

McConnell set a bowl of Dinty Moore beef stew in front of his morose colleague, who grimaced at the clumps of orange and grey bobbing in the turgid brown broth. "Come'on, eat up. It's not so bad." 

Lindhauer shook his head. "I just feel so, so..." 

Settling across the dining room table from him, the red-haired man leaned forward to bring his green eyes into contact with the half-closed ice blue ones. "You feel so what?" 

After sampling a spoonful, Lindhauer curled his lean angular torso forward, then consumed the contents. He looked up. "Better. I feel better." 

McConnell nodded, the red curls shiny from too many hours between showers. "I thought so. When was the last time you ate anything?" 

The blond man shrugged. "I don't remember. I just remember thinking how much I've lost since we started this last December. The next thing I knew, I was sitting in that dark apartment, waiting for her to come back." He grimaced. "What good would that have done? She thinks I'm evil." 

McConnell sighed. "They don't understand. We know there are sentient species with interstellar travel capabilities. We've all lost things, Gil." 

The long face snapped to attention at the use of his first name. "What? What's happened to you?" 

McConnell carried the bowl to the pot to refill it. "Dad's disinherited me." After positioning the stew in front of his friend, he crossed his arms on the table to rest his chin on them. "He called me. Apparently, word of what happened at Virginia Beach finally leaked back to him." 

Steel rang against ceramic for a moment, then Lindhauer shook his head. "That isn't fair. He'll go stand outside abortion clinics for months, throwing blood on helpless women, calling for hate campaigns against doctors from the pulpit, but - " 

"Gil." The growl was both warning and protest.

One long hand rose, stark white in the rays from the single overhead bulb. "It's a subject we'll always disagree on, Doug, but that isn't the point. He's worried about a few babies; we're worried about the whole species." Lindhauer leaned forward. "Does he begin to understand how important what we're doing is?" 

McConnell sighed. "No. You know we can't tell him, either."

Lindhauer nodded. "I know. That's what makes it so rough." Both turned at a knock from the living room. 

McConnell frowned. "Who?" He peered through the spy hole, then pulled the door open. "'Ace'! 'Charlie'! You're back awfully soon. What did he say?" 

The couple rushed inside, the heavy-set man puffing. "We've verified that it was the shape-shifters in that rocket. They broke into one of the Europeans' storage facilities." 

Lindhauer stepped onto the carpet. "What? One of theirs? Not one of ours? That's a relief." 

'Ace''s brown curls shook from side to side. "Apparently, there were two more at work in the European organizations, so they know everything we've worked out over the years." 

McConnell swore softly as he collapsed onto the sofa. "That's it. We've failed." He rubbed his freckled cheeks tiredly. "We've handed the old man all the ammunition he needs to remove us from power, and you know what that means." 

'Ace' took a seat beside him. "No, it doesn't. It just means the time-table for the Project is accelerated. While you were attempting to find 'Finn', we've been purging the Organization of loyalists. Our bases in the Pacific are untouched, so we can retire to - " 

The door crashing to the carpet brought them all to their feet, then they turned to face three men in grey suits, armed with semi-automatic rifles. Lindhauer leapt over the back of the couch, heading for the handgun he had dropped onto the side table. But, one of Glocks spoke, sending him jerking backwards across the room until he collapsed in a bloody heap by the fireplace. McConnell squeezed off two shots before the back of his skull exploded, spraying grey flecks and hot red tissue over the thick white carpet. 

'Charlie' threw himself on top of 'Ace' to whisper desperately, "I love you, Lisa," before wrapping his arms around her waist. 

She kissed his neck, then prepared for the end, closing her eyes as they heard footsteps approaching. 

Then came a snick that set them both cringing. 

'Charlie' raised his face out of the carpet, expecting his forehead to contact the end of a rifle. "Let Lisa live, please. Kill me instead, but let her live." But all he felt was the brush of a stream of smoke.

A wry, chilling chuckle. "I intended to kill none of you. Each of you has your uses, but you associates foolishly chose to attack mine." The old man shrugged. "Subordinates. You never can tell which side they're really on, now can you?" He rose from his crouch to slip onto the cushions of the armchair. "Get up, get up." He waved the three Grey Suits outside, where they paced the hallway. 

'Charlie' still held 'Ace' against his side tightly. "What do you want with us?" 

The old man's forehead wrinkled. "You, dear boy, very little. It is your precious Amanda who interests me the most." 

'Ace' pulled herself free of her lover's grasp to reach across the room and rub the old man's knee seductively. "Whatever you want me to do, I will, just let Drew live." 

A snort. "Amanda, please. Your body interests me not in the least." He reached over to tap her forehead with the two fingers that pinched the Morley. "It's that lovely mind of yours which intoxicates me." He breathed out a stream of smoke. "Come, you are free to continue your work, only with my expertise and guidance." He arched a grey brow at 'Charlie'. "Keep your darling 'Ace' happy and you live." 

The heavy-set man gulped as he nodded. 

The old spy rose. "Now, come with me. We have work to do. The others will clear up this mess." As he led them out, he nodded to Luther, who reached into his jacket pocket to tug free a pair of latex gloves.

\--o-0-o--

Lowenberg Residence  
Santorini, Greece  
Wednesday, April 29, 1998  
7:27 pm

Dana Scully stepped off the deck cautiously, her back and legs still sore from the burns. Frohike and the soldiers who had escorted them back to Santorini were passing bottles of Ouzo back and forth, shouting and throwing their Captain, fully clothed, in Max's newly filled pool. Langly was watching the youngest of the Greek men, enchanted by his flashing eyes and ready smile. Byers and Vicky, meanwhile, were dancing to the songs blaring from a boom-box between sips of Caroline's Swiss wine. Max and Caroline were watching from a corner, smiling and laughing to themselves. 

But her partner had sequestered himself well away from the impromptu festivities, at the edge of the green where the cliffs fell away to the sea. Mulder had wrapped his arms around his denim-clad knees and was staring up at the stars. When Scully reached his side, she could see his framed print of Samantha, the one that had sat on his desk since the first day she walked into the basement, propped up against a rock in front of him. 

He looked back over his shoulder. "Hey, G-woman." 

After resting one hand on his shoulder, she curled up beside him, her short legs folded so she could match his posture. "Mom's happy to know we're all right." Resting her cheek on her knees, she studied his upturned face. "You're really off the hook, you know." 

He cocked one dark brow at her. "Hum?" 

She stared out at the waves breaking on distant rocks. "She wanted to know about this Arthur Pendrell person." 

Mulder smirked. "I wondered what that banshee shriek was about." Pensive, he rubbed his chin on his knee. "In a way, I'm a little sorry."

They held each other's gaze for a long moment, then Scully massaged the back of her neck. "Speaking of banshees, I had another one of *those* dreams the night before we found the buried structure. With all that was going on, I didn't give you the chance to analyze it properly, Herr Doktor Sigmund." 

Mulder shifted closer until their shoulders were in contact. "Oh? Which deity was it this time?" 

Scully narrowed her green-blue eyes at him. "Isis." 

He snorted. "I don't think your Mom will want to know her good little Catholic daughter was reading Apuleius at college." Pushing on her arm slightly, he sobered. "You look like you have something you want to tell me." 

"Hum." 

Stretching his legs out straight, he propped his weight on the hand he rested behind her. "So?" 

She shrugged. "I don't think these were paranormal visitations, Mulder." 

"Why am I not surprised?" He shook her elbow gently. "You're killing me with suspense, Doctor. What do you think they were?" 

She crossed her legs at the ankles. "I think you were right, though, I *was* trying to work through something in my subconscious." 

"Score one for the Father of Psychology." He bumped her elbow with his. "Spill it, FBI-woman." 

Scully cocked her head, then turned to him. "Isis had wings, both in myth and in my dream." She held her arms out straight to the sides, forcing him to flop onto his spine. "She didn't say anything, she just spread them out and grew, until she covered all the sky." She dropped her hands in her lap. "I could see the stars winking through, then lines interconnecting the spots appeared, replacing the veins in her wings. I thought I was recreating star charts in my mind, like the ones Ahab used to show me, or like the ones in the Maya constellations. But the lines connected *all* the stars, all of them into one vast network. I've been thinking about that image, and I realize now what I've been trying to tell myself." 

Turning on his side, he propped himself up on one elbow. "Ah, you had a vision of some new form of interstellar transport, Doctor Arroway?" 

She arched a brow at him. "No, I don't think so. I think I was telling myself that no matter how hard I work, or how much we do in our lifetimes, it's the personal connections that matter most." She reached across to brush his shoulder with her fingertips. "Thanks for looking out for me, Mulder. And for forcing me to talk, even when I didn't want to." 

He stared into her green-blue eyes until he could no longer hold her gaze, then contented himself with rubbing the back of her hand with his palm. 

Waiting until his hand had stilled in its motion, she tucked her fingers between her knees. "Mom also said Charlie and Bill wanted to speak with me when I returned home." Twisting, she searched his face for reassurance. 

He pointed to the image of Samantha with his chin. "I hope it'll go well, Scully. After helping me find her, your brothers should have enough sense to see how important you are to them." 

With a single shake of her head, she went back to staring at the stars. "At least we know she isn't up there somewhere, Mulder." 

He sat up beside her. "Yeah. She's here and safe." He bit his lower lip. "I wonder what she'll think of me?" 

Scully tossed her hair. "If she has any sense at all, she'll discover she has a wonderful big brother, one she didn't have to chase or pinch or poke to train him to appreciate her when she grew up." 

His eyes dark, he nodded before gazing up again. "I wonder where they are now? When they'll be back?" 

She shrugged. "They may never be back. The political structure may have changed on their planet when they arrive, or that silicon skin may fail, or, whatever." The sounds of the celebration floated out to them, prompting her to bump his shoulder with her elbow. "But you're really here looking for the three of them, aren't you?" 

He snapped his thumbnail against his teeth several times before he sighed. "Who, Deep Throat, my father, and Saunders?" 

When a gust of wind passed over them, she pushed auburn hair off her face with her fingers. "Other would there be not, young Skywalker." She smiled softly.

A snort, then he shook his head. "Not really. I decided sitting out here that I have to let the past go, Scully, so I can appreciate Sam for the woman she is now, not the kid sister I lost." With that, he tossed the photograph over the edge of the cliff, waiting while the glass shattered and the frame broke on the boulders. 

Grasping his shoulder as a prop, she rose. "Let's rock, Luke, the ewoks are partying." 

Once he had stood, he bent over her back. "I'll be sure to tell Frohike what you really think of him. He's always fancied himself as your Han Solo." 

While dusting her jeans off, Scully glanced up at him. "Leia Organa don't *need* no Han Solo." 

Smirking, he touched her spine. "No, she sure didn't."

\--FINIS--

ZURVAN

\-----o----------------------------------------------------------------------o-----

Dogberry: Moreover, sir, which indeed is not under white and  
black, this plaintiff here, the offender, did call me  
ass: I beseech you, let it be remembered in his pun-  
ishment. And also, the watch heard them talk of one  
Deformed: they say he wears a key in his ear, and a  
lock hanging by it; and borrows money in God's name,  
the which he hath used so long and never paid, that  
now men grow hard-hearted, and will lend nothing for  
God's sake; pray you, examine him upon that point. 

Lenato: I thank you for your care and honest pains. 

Dogberry: Your worship speaks like a most thankful and  
reverend youth; and I praise God for you.

Lenato: There's for thy pains. 

Dogberry: God save the foundation!

Lenato: Go, I discharge thee of thy prisoner, and I thank thee.

Dogberry: I leave an arrant knave with your worship; which  
I beseech your worship to correct yourself, for the  
example of others. God keep your worship! I wish  
your worship well; God restore you to health! I  
humbly give you leave to depart; and if a merry  
meeting be wished, God prohibit it! Come, neighbor!

Much Ado About Nothing

\-----o-------------------------------------------------------------------o----- 

Well, dear readers, there you have it. My Dana Scully Trilogy is complete. 

One of my faithful Net friends, Matt Weed, asked me why I chose to bring Samantha back to Mulder this early in the story. (I have another trilogy to go.) I had always wanted the Search for Samantha to be something that Mulder and Scully pursued as an investigation together. I didn't want her to be handed back to him by the CSM, or a stranger, or have her 'accidentally' fall in his lap one morning. Given the complexity of the search, it wasn't something that could happen while they were at loggerheads, the way they seem to be perpetually on the show. Nor could it happen when Mulder runs off on his own. He's not that organized. It could only come when they were functioning at a high level as a team, even if they weren't together this whole story. 

I separated Mulder and Scully for two reasons. First, I wanted to remind Mulder what it was like to be ditched, what it was like to have to sit and worry while he had no idea what had happened to Scully. Second, I had to give Scully some time on her own because one isn't perceived to be writing about Scully if Mulder's around. Don't ask me why that is, but it's true.

Back to Matt's question. For me, the story isn't over at this point. Remember that after "Iliad" came "Odyssey." Yes, Mulder has achieved the Quest that drove him ever since he was twelve, but he's left with several fascinating possibilities: (1) What does he do with the rest of his life? How much of his time and energy will he put into his work with Scully on the X-Files, and how much on 'getting a life'? (2) All good intentions aside, how does he make a go of his relationship with his sister, his mother, and his stepfather? (3) Will he ever come to terms with his Jewish identity? (4) Senator Matheson has offered both him and Scully leadership roles in this new anti-Consortium. It's much more significant now that there is a more real possibility of actual alien intervention in human affairs at some point in the next century (in this alternate universe of mine).

Nor is Scully's story over. She is now recognized (in this universe anyway) as being as much a part of leading the X-Files as Mulder is. She also has some work to do with her own family. Beyond that, she will be Mulder's main support when it comes to dealing with Samantha, which will lead to internal conflicts for her as well. 

Thanks to Diane Renaud, who sent me the American Standard translation of the verses from the Song of Deborah in Judges. Thanks also to Debbie Goldstein for her editing suggestions. I've diligently been attempting to implement them this time around. Thanks to John Carter McKnight for some wonderful discussions about the direction to take some of the Consortium elements of the story. Finally, thanks to CiCi Lean, Donna Bakke, and all the folks who wrote me asking me when the next story was coming out. Without that push at the end, this whole monster might have sat, unfinished, on my hard drive. 

*** 2019 note: I owe a long-belated thank you to David S. Raley, who served as a beta reader on Anath. He gave Zurvan a thorough read and review, which I appreciated. With this revision, I’ve incorporated most, if not all, of his suggestions. They much improved the tale, especially the preliminaries leading up to the Pittsburgh trial. Much gratitude, dear friend, wherever the years have taken you. ***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lastly, references: 
> 
> My quotes from the Bard (odd spellings and all) come from "The Complete Works of William Shakespeare, the Cambridge Edition Text", as edited by William Aldis Wright, published by Garden City Books, Garden City, New York, 1936. 
> 
> "The Five Books of Moses", a new translation with introductions, commentary, and notes, by Everett Fox, Schocken Books, New York, 1995.
> 
> "Homer's The Iliad", translated by Robert Fagles, with introduction and notes by Bernard Knox, published by Viking Penguin, a division of Penguin Books, 1990.
> 
> My quote from Rufus' "History of Alexander" is actually from an excerpt published in "Problems in Ancient History: Volume One: The Ancient Near East and Greece", edited by Donald Kagan, Macmillain Publishing Co., Inc., 1975.
> 
> Just a note: Kagan's "On the Origins of War and the Preservation of Peace", published by Doubleday in 1995 is essential for anyone interested in the larger forces at work throughout history. You know the CSM, if he were real, would have it memorized by now. 
> 
> If you'd like more information on Akhenaten and his experiment in monotheism, let me suggest the following: "Akhenaten, the Heretic King", by Donald B. Redford, Princeton University Press, 1984, paperback, 1989.
> 
> "Popol Vuh", translated by Dennis Tedlock, Touchstone Press, 1996.
> 
> "The Landmark Thucydides: A Comprehensive Guide to the Peloponnesian War", edited by Robert B. Strassler, published by The Free Press, 1996. Not only is it an introductory quote to Chapter IX, "The School of Hellas" (title also from Pericles Funeral Oration), but Scully quotes nearly directly from it while describing the Athenian navy. 
> 
> And for those of you who think I made the Olympias up, well, you should know me better by now. Check out: (1) the March/April 1988 issue of "Archaeology" (great cover), (2) the May 1996 issue of "Scientific American", or (3) the homepage for the Trireme trust: 
> 
> http://www-atm.atm.ox.ac.uk/rowing/trireme.html. 
> 
> While you're there, send money. They want to build another one. 
> 
> "The Book of the City of Ladies" by Christine de Pizan (1405), translated by Earl Jeffrey Richards, Persea Books, New York, 1982.
> 
> "Over Nine Waves: A Book of Irish Legends" as told by Marie Heaney, published by Faber and Faber, 1994.
> 
> "The Lord of the Rings", by J. R. R. Tolkien, Forty-first printing by Ballantine Books, 1973. 
> 
> Many of my facts on the history of Jerusalem come from Karen Armstrong's 1996 book, "Jerusalem, One City, Three Faiths", published by Ballantine Books. 
> 
> Most of the State of Israel is on the Web, or so it seems. You can visit Kibbutz Sde Eliyahu on their website at:
> 
> http://www.seliyahu.org.il
> 
> Noel T. Boaz wrote up his ideas on human origins in his 1993 publication: "Quarry: Closing in in the Missing Link", published by the Free Press. I checked him out on the web, and he seems to have real troubles getting funding. For a more conventional view of human origins, try Ian Tattersall's "The Fossil Trail", published by Oxford University Press, 1995. 
> 
> And, as Pamela T. Pon reminded me, for an accessible and enjoyable account of the discovery of the Minoan ruins on Santorini and the determination of their place in the history of the ancient Mediterranean, try: "Unearthing Atlantis: an archaeological odyssey", by Charles Pellegrino, forward by Arthur C. Clarke, published by Random House in 1991 and Vintage Books in 1993. 
> 
> Lastly, you can meet Sedna and some of Scully's other goddesses in "The Book of the Goddess, Past and Present", edited by Carl Olson, published by Crossroads Press in 1985. 
> 
> Originally released to The AnneX: January 17, 1998 and to ATXC beginning: February 1, 1998

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The characters and situations of the television program, "The X-Files" are the creation and property of Chris Carter, 1013 Productions, and Fox Broadcasting. They have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended. Any other characters or phrases the reader recognizes belong to their respective creators and owners, are also used without permission, and with no intent of copyright infringement. Readers are free to place this story on any web-page or archive as long as my approval is first obtained, and as long as my name and E-mail address remain attached. This work must not be used for profit.  
> Note to the reader: The stories listed as authored by Mary Ruth Keller are all in a single universe. While each is an investigation that stands alone, they should be read in the following order for the plot and character developments to make the most sense.  
> The Kuxan Sum story order:  
> Caroline Lowenberg Trilogy:  
> "Sins of the Fathers"  
> "Xibalba"  
> "Denha"  
> Saytr Play: "Rustic Suite"  
> Dana Scully Trilogy:  
> Prologue: “Time Out of Joint”  
> "Passages in Memory"  
> Interlude: “Roman de la Pendrell”  
> "Archaea"  
> "Zurvan"  
> Saytr Play: "Anath"  
> Sandra Ann Miller Trilogy (to date):  
> "Chermera"


End file.
